


The words never said

by heavensweetheart



Series: The words never said [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: And THIS explains a lot of things, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awkward LIGHT Sexual Situations, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Bittersweet Ending, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, Chemistry, Enemies to Friends, Eventual Romance, F/M, Feelings Realization, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Headcanon, Nightmares, POV First Person, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Socially awkward but noble and kind Zuko, Traumatized but sweet and adorable Katara, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, hidden scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2020-10-20 06:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 44,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20670722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavensweetheart/pseuds/heavensweetheart
Summary: A lot of things happened in the AVATAR World. Some of them that we didn't really got to see.A series of one-shots describing the evolution of Zuko and Katara's relationship.





	1. I am no hero

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, guys, I've been DYING to publish this fic since forEVER!! As the summary says, it is a series of one-shots describing the evolution of Zuko and Katara's relationship and how they achieved the great chemistry they show on screen. All the scenes are some sort of headcanons from my part, that I. AM. SURE happened in-universe! (We just never got to see them.) All of them are placed between episodes from the show, and I'm pretty sure you can guess which one they are. This fic was a major quest to write because I wanted to make justice to the characters and I struggled with the characterization that I was writing more than one time. I'll be updating soon, I pinky swear! Now, let's start!

**Zuko**

It’s hard to be alone with your own thoughts.

Especially when you’re watching the reunion of a clearly-happy-and-loving family after your father and sister tried to kill you. Several times. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for Sokka and Katara and their father, but it still feels a little… desolated to see these kind of scenes when I…

Oh, forget it! I’m really not good at talking about this sort of things. And, besides, it’s not like all of this “_sentimentalism_” is keeping me from staring creepily at their exultant reencounter.

While all the others are waiting for dinner around the bonfire, chatting amicably and laughing at Toph’s complaints about being “forced” to eat one of Aang’s vegetarian meals because of our “unsubstantial” meat, I’m sitting in the fountain next to Appa and Momo. _Like the outcast that I am_. The fire is illuminating the group’s silhouettes with bright orange and yellow tones, creating grandiosely huge shadows across the antique walls of the Western Air Temple; the sound of bubbly laughter fills the space with a sense of liveliness that wasn’t here the first time that I arrived three years ago.

Of course, back at that moment I had… other things in mind, and one of my eyes was incapacitated so I couldn’t properly take in my surroundings.

My left eye never quite completely regained its vision after the Agni Kai with my father, but now I can fairly distinguish shadows and colors with it. It’s not difficult for me to see Aang and Toph’s tamely arguing between each other, or Katara and Sokka looking at their father as if he was the sun rising after the storm.

Katara has been clung to Hakoda in a tender embrace since we arrived. She’s euphoric; ecstatic, even. Her face is glowing, her blinding smile highlights her rounded cheeks and eyes, the contrast between her perfectly white teeth and her dark skin is rather fascinating. Now more than ever she resembles a naïve little girl, excited about everything and nothing at the same time.

It’s adorable.

Relief washes over me upon seeing her this happy, I contributed to bring that smile to her face.

I did something good for her for a change, didn’t I? Maybe if Katara can see that way, she will stop frowning and sneering every time she looks at me.

Anyway… it looks like this just become a “dinner and show” night. Sokka is doing a poor performance of the events that happened today, along with some more of his own creativeness. Like the epic sword fight he’s reenacting now in which, _obviously_, Sokka had gotten out victoriously. Katara every now and then shoots some comments that make her brother frown in her way but that doesn’t stop him from “reminisce” his heroic accomplishments, Hakoda’s eyes travel from one of them to the other, looking at his children like they were his heart.

I turn away. Hard.

Hakoda seems like a good man. I have barely spoken to him since this morning, but he hadn’t given me a hard time because of my past faults – not beyond the wary glares he shoots my way whenever he thinks I’m not looking – and he clearly cares a great deal for Sokka and Katara. The three of them are so affectionate and close to each other, it’s a bit unsettling and odd to see. They’re the perfect picture of love, family and union.

It feels… _nice_ to see them together. It truly does.

I turn towards the group trying to get this sentimental funk out of my head… and I happen to lock eyes with Katara at the same time she finishes serving the rest their dinner.

Predictably, her dazzling smile banishes when she catches sight of me, her expression is disgusted and stern in equal levels.

_Right._

I’m the first to look away. This is a special night for Katara, I don’t want to ruin her fun.

But, then again, Katara might consider her fun _already_ ruined due to the _sole fact_ that I’m _here_!

With his typical subtleness, Appa approaches me and gives me a long, wet lick.

His bison-breathe smells like old hay, and his sticky slobber just trashed the clothes that I changed into from the Boiling Rock’s inmate uniform. “Thanks, Appa,” I say, a little bit bewildered by the sincerity in my own words, “That makes me feel much better.”

Momo comes to join us, and as he climbs to my bended knee, Appa makes a soft roaring sound that I decide to interpret as a “what’s wrong?”.

“She’s mad at me,” I say, quietly.

Momo croaks out something that sounds pretty much like a “who?_”_.

“Katara. She has been mad at me for ages now.”

Two pair of big, clueless eyes look at me, requiring and encouraging me to explain further.

“I…,” I trail off, unsure about how to voice my thoughts, “I did something to her... Well, I didn’t do anything to her – I mean, I _did_ do something to her, but she’s mad at me for something that I _didn’t_ do. But I also _did_ something, but not to _her_ – I mean, yes to her, but not _to_ _her_ – I mean, not _specifically_ to her – I mean… Never mind. Anyways, it was the wrong thing to do, and I should have done other thing, the _right_ thing, but she’s mad at me because I didn’t do the right thing but instead did the _wrong_ thing.”

Appa and Momo both blink at me, dumbfounded. I sigh, I should have told my father that the speech lessons he enrolled me as a kid had been a waste of time.

“I betrayed her, alright?,” I admit, “I disappointed her, I let her down.”

_In more ways than one_, I want to add._ She trusted me with something and I used it against her. Against all of you_.

The water from the spirit oasis. If Katara had never told me about it, I would have never guessed she used it for healing Aang after Azula’s lightning; and I would have never hired that assassin to exterminate them all! It was all _her_ fault! Didn’t she know better than to trust someone like _me_?

Should I tell her the real reason about why I wanted them all dead? That would cause a whole new rift, right? It would feel like I betrayed her _twice._

I growl and pull at my hair, taking in the pain. I really _am_ a horrible person. (Or _was_ a horrible person; I don’t even know any more!) How did my life become so complicated? How could I betray _all_ the people that ever cared for me? Whose fault is it?

_Mine_. All of this is on me. I gave my loyalty to the people that would rather roast me alive, and I back-stabbed the ones that once protected and looked after me. All the fault is my own, I deserve Katara’s anger. I deserve _everybody’s_ anger.

As if sensing my inner turmoil, Momo squirms his way into my lap and nuzzles at my chest at the same time Appa presses his warm, furry giant head against me.

I’m still not used to this cheesy, soft-y displays of affection… yet, I guess they aren’t that bad.

“Thanks, guys,” I say, petting each of them. Albeit hesitantly. I’m still new at displaying affection myself. “I wish Katara was a little more forgiving like you two. Do you have any ideas about how can I get to her good side?”

Appa and Momo exchange a silent look with each other before turning to me, Momo is the one to give me a low, punching squawk.

“So, no, huh?” My hand keeps distractedly patting Momo’s tiny head, “Don’t worry, girls are hard to understand. I know that from experience.”

“Oh, you do?”

That makes me freeze.

Slowly – very slowly – I raise my gaze to see Katara standing just a few short feet away from me, next to one of the temple’s columns covered in vegetation.

It is too dark for me to read her expression properly but, surprisingly enough, her posture isn’t confrontational or even defensive. Her two arms hang loosely at her sides in a fashion that would seem casual if it wasn’t for the subtle tension in the straightness of her stance.

There’s something odd with her, I can tell for the way she’s looking back at me. Her gaze is slightly softer than what it has been since I joined her and her friends; for once she isn’t frowning, or grimacing, or mocking at me. Her face is particularly neutral – save for the eyebrow she’s raising at me questioningly. “Am I interrupting something?”

That unfreezes me, and the sudden awareness about how the scene I’m into must seem makes me blink. _Me, talking to a pair of animals?_ Katara must think I’m a freak for more reasons than one now!

“Katara!” I say, belatedly surprised. I carefully take Momo away from my knee and get to my feet, “Hey! No… I mean, yeah. I mean, _hi!_ I mean… yeah, hi.”

_A freak for more reasons than one_.

Katara doesn’t seem weirded out by my catastrophe of a salute, (she’s probably already used to my awkwardness), but instead her eyes are cold as the ice in the South Pole itself. They almost make me wish she _was_ weirded out.

I smile. Sheepishly and possibly still awkwardly. “Hey, what’s up?”

She remains silent, her gaze falls to the floor. I wait patiently for her to talk. Katara isn’t too shorter than me, I think while I observe her. Maybe just by a few inches. Nonetheless, I do have the bad habit of hunching my back a little bit from time to time. (My father used to hit me with a pole for me to stand straight.)

I wonder how much taller than her I would be if I stood at my full height.

“Sokka and Dad told me about what you did in the Boiling Rock…” Katara finally whispers. She still won’t look at me. “I appreciate what you did for them. Thanks.”

I back off a step in shock, and I stare at Katara – at the girl that couldn’t have been clearer about her resentment towards me for weeks now.

She’s still looking at the ground, but her bearing is as firm as when she first approached. Her hands are balled into fists, she bites her bottom lip in a way that looks almost painful; it’s evident that she isn’t appreciating putting herself in such a vulnerable position in front of the boy that she still holds a grudge to. However, she’s humble enough to do so notwithstanding her pride or her fury.

_True honor_, I think.

“There’s no need to thank me,” I say softly, “It was a pleasure and an honor to help your father.”

Katara gives a stiff, curt nod; her eyes still pinned to the floor.

The silence that follows is _crushing_, the air around us suddenly tight and suffocating. Katara doesn’t show any signs of discomfort, though. She looks like she isn’t even aware of the situation, her mind so distanced from the moment that her body might as well not be here. Her stance continues the same, immobile as a statue. The only movements are the ones of her long, dark-brown hair, which seems almost black in the night. Loose strands wave with the wind, pronouncedly and graciously, at the sides of her round-shaped face.

“I’ll make sure to tell him you said that,” she says, impersonally. “I’ve said my part. Good night.”

“Katara, wait!”

I catch her wrist as she turns to exit. Her skin is warm against the cold night air.

“Don’t touch me!” She nearly shouts at the mere touch. She pulls her hand away as if mine had some sort of infectious virus.

I take a step back. “I won’t. I’m sorry.”

She glares at me but says nothing, she doesn’t wait long before leaving this time.

I follow.

“Katara, wait!”

She turns around so brusquely that I slither a little bit in order to not crash with her, her blue eyes are so narrowed at me they are hardly open. A clipped, terse, stabbing “what?” comes out of her lips. I gulp.

“Listen, I get that we haven’t been on good terms since I joined the group,” – the understatement is almost laughable – “But I was hoping that we could solve it out. I mean, I… you know… I was hoping that we could be friends.”

I smile again, shattered and awry. The aura that Katara is emanating is one of pure hostility, it’s making me nervous.

I mean… I’m used to that kind of bitterness from a lifetime living alongside _Azula_, but this feels different somehow. Azula has always been cruel, it is her nature, she has some sort of innate inner darkness. Katara doesn’t, Katara is light. In the past, every time I saw her she looked like she was so pure and innocent that it infuriated me. (Nobody could be _that_ blameless.) Seeing her this much tainted with resentment feels… _wrong_.

I would like for us to go back to how we were when we were trapped at Ba Sing Se.

“_Friends_,” she deadpans, pronouncing the word strangely. Hideously. An obnoxious snort, very improper of her, comes out of her mouth then. “Yeah. No, thanks.”

Next thing I know, she’s walking away, this time much quicker than before. She has already reached a couple of feet away from me, I actually have to jog to catch her.

“Wait! Katara, I mean it. I want us to be friends.”

“And I mean it, too,” she says over her shoulder without stopping or even looking at me. “I really _don’t_ want to be your friend.”

“Why?”

Katara stops dead in her tracks. It’s so unexpected that I can’t avoid crashing lightly with her but she doesn’t even flinch.

“Why?,” she repeats incredulously. She gives another brusque turnaround to face me, hands placed on her hips. “Because I don’t _trust_ you.”

She snorts again. “It’s not even that, it’s just that I don’t _like_ you.” Her shoulders raise in a carefree shrug, “Never have, but it’s not like _that_ is a secret. Right?”

Katara’s face is trickily calm, opaque to any sort of emotion, locking a noticeable satisfaction underneath. Her eyes have a softly vicious glow and the corner of her lip is twitching upwards in a discrete smirk. I frown.

“I get what you’re doing.”

“Doing what?” She takes advantage of her naturally wide eyes to pull out an innocent expression. “I’m just telling the truth. I don’t like you, never have liked you. It’s not like you have many likable qualities, you know.”

“You’re being mean.”

She laughs. “Well, aren’t _you_ the expert in _meanness_ here.”

A muscle pulses in my jaw. “Katara…”

“You know what?” Katara’s mask of indifference falls, her eyes are now ice daggers aimed my way. She steps towards me. “I already thanked you – which is much more than what you deserve, by the way – so I have _zero_ reasons to talk to you _at all_, and you can’t even begin to imagine how grateful I am for that. Now, let’s do each other a favor and stay as far away from one another as we can. Shall we?”

I can feel my stomach twisting in tight knots and I swallow through an uncomfortably closed throat.

“I was thinking that we could…”

“You thought _wrong_.” She nearly growls that last word. “This conversation is over.”

“Katara, I want…”

She laughs again. Dry and high-pitched. “_You _want? I don’t _care_ about what you want. What _I _want is for you to stay as far away from me as possible. I’ll take whatever measures are needed for that to come true.”

She takes another step closer to me, entering my personal space; her breathe feels hot as steam on my chin, almost brushing the tip of my bottom lip.

Her skinny finger jabs at my chest. “I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t want you talking to me, I want you to stay at _two_ arms’ length from me. We are _never_ going to be friends, Zuko. There’s nothing in this world that will change that. Now read my lips.” She points at her sneering mouth. “Leave. Me. _Alone_.”

Her thick hair slaps me across the face when she spins around. I watch her practically run back into the darkness of the temple, where the others are now sleeping; I don’t try to follow this time. Katara’s fists are still clenched, she looks like she could punch someone. Preferably me, if I had to guess who.

I just stand in my spot, feeling hollow, sad, disappointed and _annoyed_.

_What the Agni is Katara’s problem?_

I admit it, I was a jerk, perhaps for too long, and maybe not all of my wrongdoings deserve to be forgiven, but I have done _good_ things these past days… I rescued her father, for Spirit’s sake! That counts for something, right?

Right?

I resignedly run a hand down my face. Who am I kidding? I already admitted that I deserve all of her anger. Not even _I_ can convince myself that I deserve to be forgiven, how could I expect Katara to think otherwise?

_But does she really has to be that much of a…_

No, no, no. Uncle taught me better manners than to insult a girl.

I lean back against the closest column, listening to Katara’s words over and over again.

_I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t want you talking to me; I want you to stay at two arms’ length from me. _

I can do that. I can maintain as much distance from Katara that she wants. It’s not like friendship and companionship is going to defeat the Firelord anyways, Katara and I aren’t forced to like each other. _Katara_ isn’t forced to like me.

_We are never going to be friends._

I growl and pinch the bridge of my nose, my head is pounding. _Why in the world am I giving so much importance to Katara’s opinion?_

I almost have to restrain myself from going after her again and talk her into solving our differences, or whatever. We could talk it out, Uncle used to say that talking was the best way of understanding. Or at least that’s what I could pick up from his nonsense of a discourse.

On the other hand, Katara made herself clear. She doesn’t want anything to do with me. Not now, not after the war, not ever.

The memory of her voice, sharpened with pain and resentment makes my stomach revolve. I am responsible for somebody so pure to be so broken on the inside. The very least I can do is respect her wishes. I owe her that much.

I slide down against the hard column. My eyes are closed but, instead of darkness, I only see Katara’s full lips moving scornfully.

_Leave me alone._

Yeah.

I embrace myself, suddenly feeling cold on the inside. A very distasteful feeling for a firebender.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this scene came to my mind because I thought: "If Zuko helped rescue Hakoda from the Boiling Rock... why hadn't Katara forgiven him then?" But even with Katara being angry as only she can be, I can't believe that she wouldn't at least thank Zuko for what he did. It's just wouldn't be her if she didn't! And then Zuko would try to make amends with her and... well, we all saw how THAT went. Besides, can you IMAGINE what Zuko must have felt when witnessing the reuniong of a happy family consisting in a father, a son, and daughter after EVERYTHING that he had been through with his own family?!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! (And I certainly hope you think I got our beloved Zuko's personality right´:-D)


	2. Wait here

**Zuko**

Should I ask to come in?

_Nah_. She would probably kick me out before even hearing what I have to say.

And I am _not_ walking into other people’s tents after the “_Sokka_-incident”.

Besides, I can’t intrude into a girl’s tent. What if Katara’s doing something… um… _private_?

Not something “Sokka-and-Suki” kind of private! – Or at least I don’t _think_ she’s planning on doing something _that _kind of private. (With whom could she do it?)

Maybe I should simply ask her to come out and talk.

She’s not asleep yet, I can tell because the lantern inside her tent is illuminating it from the inside out, as if the fabric was rice paper. Her dark shadow is strikingly distinct on the lit cloth as she prepares herself to sleep. I could easily ask her to talk right now, but the news I have to deliver aren’t exactly something that you say and then go to sleep. (How do you tell someone that you know who her mother’s killer is?) (Would it be more thoughtful if I left this for tomorrow’s morning?)

Katara is still going on with her night routine. Accommodating her hair, apparently. She’s pulling it over her head, styling it in a bun, exposing the shape of her delicate shoulders and the curve of her back.

She _is_ quite curvy.

I mean, I’ve already seen Ty Lee, and she has quite a… _physiognomy_, but it is mostly her… um… _assets_ the ones… that… Never mind.

Katara’s more slender. Dainty. Her body is artistic, and it shows itself in the most simple of the movements. Like her slim arms raising her thick, wavy hair; drawing the attention to the perfectly delineated arc of her back, and her concave stomach, displaying the shadow of her generous breast. I imagine how her dark skin must look like right now…

I slap myself.

I literally, physically slap myself. _Where did all of _that_ come from?_

Sleep deprivation must be affecting me already. That _must_ be it. I should probably just go to sleep and then talk to Katara in the morning, it’s the most reasonable thing to do. But…

This is very important for her.

And in a way, it is important to me, too.

I _want_ to help Katara with this, I want to bring her justice. I want to heal her pain. This is more than just making amends with her, it is my _mission_ to bring Katara peace. 

In the meantime… no more crazy horny thoughts. (I finally befriended Sokka, the last thing that I need is to start fantasizing about his little sister.)

Not that I was fantasizing about Katara! It was… It was _nothing_. It was a one-time thought that won’t repeat itself.

Katara slips her robe off her shoulders.

_Whoa, whoa, whoa! What in the world does she thinks she’s doing?! _

I turn away, even though I can’t really see her undressing. And I vehemently _refuse_ to contemplate the idea of her sleeping naked.

I’m sweating as if I was in the middle of the Boiling Rock’s waters but I can’t tell if it is because of my newfound inexplicable nervousness or because of the heated weather. This certainly _is_ a hot night. No wonders why Katara is taking off her clothes for sleeping.

I slap myself again, I _told_ myself I wasn’t going down that road. Seriously, what’s _wrong_ with me tonight?

This is all because of the stupid teenage hormones! If I was Firelord, I would _banish_ all teenage hormones! Permanently! I would be saving a lot of boys my age from trouble with girls like me right now or back at the capital with Mai.

_Mai_.

I haven’t thought about her since we left the Boiling Rock. I... Is she okay?

Azula saw her helping us to escape from the prison. Knowing my sister, she didn’t take such betrayal lightly, and I can only imagine what punishment she decided for Mai.

It is useless to think about this but I keep wondering, could I have saved her? Returned for her? – No, I couldn’t. Not without serving myself to Azula in a silver platter. There are more important things to think about than my love life and I can’t afford to be captured – or executed – by my power-hungry family. I need to protect the world from them.

Moreover, what could I have said to Mai? Ask her to desert the Fire Nation and come with me? She still considers me a traitor, both to the country and to herself. The fact that she saved me doesn’t mean she changed her mind about that. What would she say if she saw me right now? Having “improper” thoughts about another girl and all.

Possibly nothing. She would just throw one of her knifes directly at my throat.

I sigh. Man, I _really_ miss her.

_Is Katara asleep yet?_

I turn around to confirm it and her tent is dark, the lantern is off. She’s definitely asleep.

_So what am I supposed to do now? Await for her to wake up in the morning? _

_Did I truly think this plan through?_

Guess I didn’t.

But I’m not backing off now, I can always sleep right here in this rock that I’m sitting. I suppose. It wouldn’t be the worst place where I’ve slept. Maybe Katara will wake up at some point during the night and save me the waiting.

_Would she come out of her tent with her robe still off? _

I growl, it seems like my thoughts only keep betraying me tonight! For the record, I am definitely _not_ wishing to see Katara with her robe off! Just like I’m not replaying her _quite-seductive_ night routine, or imagining the smooth, dark skin of her bare shoulders; or…

I growl again.

You know who would most certainly kill me for having this kind of thoughts about Katara? _Katara_. She would freeze me in an ice block (wouldn’t be the first time) and throw me to sink into the depths of the ocean. I imagine the ice caging me, and Katara’s wicked smirk and blue eyes looking at me through the thick wall of frozen water…

I shiver and sweat at the same time. Katara can be quite mischievous when she wants to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene came to me because, if you pay attention to the moment when Zuko gets into Sokka's tent, it is quite illuminated, so I pressume that Sokka had a lantern. And, if he had one, why couldn't Katara have one as well? As for the rest, I took some creative liberties for making Zuko and Katara have a lightly steamy moment *mischeivous laugh* 
> 
> Think about Zuko like the 16-year-old boy that he is, spending day and night next to a pretty girl. (It doesn't really matter if the girl doesn't like him.) That. Would. Be. Hillarious!! And I brought it to life! 
> 
> P.S: I'm not going to be one of those authors that say that Zuko didn't have any feelings for Mai. Their relationship was just too genuine for me. But she wasn't the one for Zuko.


	3. I am no hero, once again

**Zuko**

_I should have killed him._

_I should have killed the monster. Made the demon pay for his sins. _

We are walking under a worsening storm, the ice-cold watery spears sting against my skin.

They are quick to become heavy drops, crashing angrily against the ground and performing a discordant symphony between each other, the world appears to reduce itself to diluted colors and a dark, petite silhouette moving significantly ahead of me.

_Katara_.

She hasn’t turned to me since we stepped away from Yon Rha.

She’s close to running, even now that we are far enough from the pathetic old man’s whining; I watch with concern her dangerously long strides over the slippery ponds of mud.

Her back is unnaturally straight as she walks, her entire body nearly visibly vibrates with restrained power. She marches with her head high, stubbornly refusing the appearance of defeat, but consenting the wounding drops to beat her mercilessly. Her shadow quickly becomes more and more distant, advancing with erratic moves that make her swing in her steps.

I rush to her side when I hear her scream, slipping against a tree.

“Katara, are you okay?”

My hand reaches for her shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” Her voice is a pained howl at the mere contact – it ruptures the soundwave of the rain hitting the earth – and she turns to me with a gaze made of shattered ice. “Never touch me!”

Katara’s sapphire-blue eyes are ill-defined, looking in all directions and none at once. They pass through without looking directly at me; static and cold, but uncontrolled and savage.

“We should have never come…” For a moment, her face and voice lower with fear. It quickly morphs into rage. “We should have never come! This is your fault! It’s _all_ your fault!”

Her shrill screams are painful to the ears, like the sound of claws over glass. Her entire expression is drawn in stirringly sharp lines of pain. And her eyes…

“_Your_ fault! _Everything_ is _your_ fault!”

“Katara…”

The words die in my throat at the mention of her name. I can’t talk. I can’t move.

I stare at Katara and she stares back at me, I can hear the sound of both our heavy breaths over the rain. She looks like she is encircled by a dark spirit. A dirtily black fog of grief. I feel…

I feel…

A disgustingly familiar sense of absolute helplessness washes over me, bringing with it my most hated emotions and fears. The feeling of not being good enough, being weak, being abandoned, rejected and hated by someone you hold dear.

I want to make things right – I want fix this for her.

_For once, I want to save someone. For once, I want to be strong enough._

“Katara…”

“_No_,” she grits through clenched teeth. Suddenly our faces are just a breath apart. “Don’t you _dare_ say my name!”

This close, I can notice the unshed tears glistening her eyes. Blue irises bleeding crimson rivers.

“Katara, I…”

“Shut up!,” she crashes her fist against my chest. And then again, and again, “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

Katara’s smacks mimic stabbing – like she’s trying to force her pain into me. The tears she has been holding back finally leave her eyes and roll through her cheeks, mixing themselves with the rainwater. “I hate you!,” she screams over the rain, “I hate you, hate you, hate you!”

I stand stock-still, taking Katara´s hits without protesting.

Soon enough, her punches lose their forces, and they are followed by tear-jerking crying sounds. Her hands now cling to my shirt, nails digging in her palms past the fabric, as sorrowful sobs leave her lips.

“Zuko…”

_Katara_.

I tighten my arms around her, keeping all of her pieces together, keeping her above the depths of despair. Her slender arms snake from my chest to surround my waist, pushing the two of us so close together not even the raindrops can pass between our bodies. It’s hard to breathe with her squeezing my ribs so tightly.

I don’t care.

Katara feels so very tiny in my arms. Despite the thick fabric of her tunic, the noticeable curves of her back and waist feel pleasingly delicate; all of her body is like a crystal relic.

The thought is contradicting; Katara is not fragile like crystal.

She continues crying holding on to me. Somehow, we end up leaning against the tree next to us – or rather, _I’m_ leaning against it. My back is pressed against the thick log and Katara is pressed against me. We are embracing each other.

We keep embracing as we slide down in perfect synchrony until we are sitting in the floor. My back is still against the wood and Katara is half-lounged against me with her face buried against my chest. Her cries are a bit muffled by my shirt and the sound of the rain but I can hear them wholly.

I don’t say anything. (I don’t know what I am supposed to say.) All that I do is hold Katara tighter, softly rubbing her back with my hands.

The tree branches shelter us from the rain, and I watch the drops endlessly falling in front of my eyes. Katara’s cries go from loud to quiet and then loud again, sometimes her body shakes violently with a hard sob that I feel more than I hear. She’s pressed so tightly against me it’s like she was a piece of myself. A piece of my heart, my lungs, and all of my body.

I’m not sure how long we stay like this. It feels like hours but they might as well be minutes. Little by little, Katara stops crying. I should be surprised by how when she finally ends, she doesn’t pull away from me. In fact, she rests the side of her head against the center of my chest as if it was a pillow.

I should be surprised by it, but I can’t bring myself to it.

I’m so tired. Too tired to feel anything other than Katara. 

She isn’t crying or screaming anymore, neither is she talking; she’s just breathing steadily at the same rhythm that I do.

I’m still not sure how to proceed. (Should I move? Speak?) I continue rubbing her back with my hands. It’s oddly reassuring, to be touching her like this.

The storm continues for a while up until dusk. When the clouds dissipate, the sky is colored in a pretty pinkish-red tone that remembers me of fire lilies. “The storm is over,” I observe.

Katara squirms even closer to me. “Yeah.” Her arms tighten around my waist.

***

I don’t remember falling asleep.

It feels like I just blinked and then opened my eyes groggily, my eyelids feel like they weigh a ton. _What the Agni is on top of me?_

Oh. Right.

Katara.

It looks like she’s sleeping, too. Her arms are still wrapped around me and her cheek is resting against my heart. I wonder if she can hear my heartbeat in her sleep.

It doesn’t take long for her to wake up as well. Sleepily slowly, she lifts her head and her arms release my torso – only for her to put her hands over my pecs for steadying herself.

“Hi,” I say. Lamely. Because I _still_ don’t know what to say. _Darn, I feel like the biggest idiot in the world._

“Hi.” The word seems to struggle to get out of her raspy throat, her eyes are red and intensely swollen. She looks around and up at the purplish blue sky above us, “Did we fall asleep?”

“I guess we did,” I straighten myself.

“For how long?”

“Can’t tell,” I raise my gaze to the sky. “It’s still not late yet, we can still fly back in Appa.”

“Yes. Guess we can.”

Katara’s voice is just as absent as her stare, the latter is fixed in the air flowing over the floor. Her gaze is still broken, shattered like sharp pieces of a smashed mirror. There are markedly dark circles under her eyes that I’ve never seen before. _Gods, what did I do? _

This trip was supposed to help Katara, not harm her even further.

I attempt to apologize for all of this (for the trip and my own stupidity), but I barely have time to open my mouth before Katara cuts me off. “We should get going. It’s getting late. The others must be worried about us.” Her hands remove from my chest rapidly, but gently.

It is then when it dawns me that my hands are still on her back, and her legs are straddling my lap.

Instinctively, I take my hands away from her as fast as possible, and she stands up.

The walk back to Appa is silent. Overwhelmingly so. It feels like I might as well be walking alone. Katara is walking ahead of me again with her entire posture frail and weary, it’s like all of the restrained power that I witnessed before was drained out of her body, leaving it as a breakable shell.

We find Appa hidden in the trees that we used as a cover for him. Apparently he, too, senses something odd with Katara because he approaches her bewildered and presses his head against her. The small smile that Katara gives is poorly reassuring.

“It’s okay, buddy.”

How can she console Appa when she’s the one that’s falling apart escapes my understanding.

“Zuko, do you mind riding us back? I think I need some sleep.”

“Sure – ”

Katara nods and, again, before I get to say anything else, she climbs up to Appa by herself and curls up in his back.

Appa lowers his head for me to climb up, too. I do.

***

It’s a long trip back and, effectively, Katara sleeps during most of it.

I don’t know at what moment she wakes up, but after a few hours I feel her sitting right behind me – too close, perhaps – I can feel her breathe close to my neck and ear.

“I don’t really want to go back to the camp,” she whispers wearily.

I feel more than I hear her words, they prickle my skin.

“I know about a place where we can all hide from Azula and the Firelord,” I offer, “I can leave you there now, and then I can back fly to bring the others.”

Katara makes a soft, agreeing sound and then moves away from me again. I don’t turn to look at her.

***

It does not take long to get to hideout that I told her about; it is in the Fire Nation, too, after all.

A few hours later we are flying over Ember Island, and I command Appa to land in my family’s old beach house. It looks different in the light of the day, but still grim. Like a true haunted house from a spooky story.

Katara does not ask for my help to get down when we land. “This is my family’s old beach house,” I tell her, “My father hasn’t come here since Azula and I were little. He would never come to look for us here.”

Katara nods, so absently that I’m not sure if she actually heard me at all. We both get all of our luggage off of Appa together.

“Thanks,” she says when we are done.

_Thanks for what? For this awful trip, for riding us here, for helping with the luggage?_

Of course I don’t say any of that.

I don’t say anything because Katara runs away once more before she hears me speak.


	4. Late at night

**Katara**

_Where I am? How did I get here?_

I am walking on the snow, my boots dig profoundly into it with each step that I take.

_Where I am? Where am I heading to?_

This looks suspiciously like home back in the South Pole, except that I’ve never been here in my entire life. I’m in a snow valley with no hills, no ponds, no villages – no a_nythin_g. North, East, West, South; I can’t see a thing beyond the horizon. It’s like the entire world turned itself into a thick, plain white carpet.

The cold is _merciless_, even for me with my winter clothes on.

I truly have no idea where I am or where – or _what_ – am I walking towards, but I keep moving forward, hoping that I’ll eventually find a way out of this place.

(Walking is difficult in such dense snow; I feel like I have barely taken two steps and ran kilometers at the same time.)

Not everything is bad, though. I think I finally see something not too far away – at least a mile from me. As I approach, I realize is not something, it’s some_one_. A woman.

Average height, relatively young, with short hair pulled back in a low bun except for a couple of long strands framing her face. She’s wearing typical clothes from home. Similar to my personal ones, actually.

“Mom!” It’s not her name, but it is who she will always be for me.

“Katara.”

She has the same serene voice that I remember, and now it’s more welcoming than ever. My name never sounded so beautiful.

I force my feet to run – towards the arms of my _mother_. I can’t wait to tell her all about my adventures and my new friends! About Aang, about the beauty of the other nations. She will be so proud that I traveled to the North Pole and the Earth Kingdom! Will she scold me for getting inside the Fire Nation? Whatever, I don’t care. I don’t care what she says as long as I can hear her wonderful voice again.

Oh! And my waterbending skills! She’ll be _so_ proud of my improved waterbending skills!

“Mom, Mom! I can’t believe it, I have so much to tell you!”

I’ll tell her about Master Pakku and Princess Yue, I’ll tell her about Earth King Kuei and Ba Sing Se, I’ll tell her about the Spirit World, I’ll tell her about the Spirit Oasis, I’ll show her that I’m a healer now! I’ll tell her that now I’m travelling with _Prince Zuko_ from the Fire Nation. I’ll tell her about Azula, too; the battles that I have fought, the people that I’ve met.

“Mom!”

“Katara.”

I see them now.

The chains.

Thick shackles that are almost the same width of my arm emerge from the snow, the cuffs are closed tightly around my mother’s wrists and ankles. Whatever material they are made of, its color is a dirty black that makes it look as if the metal, itself, was sick.

“Mom?” I ask, approaching, now more carefully than before.

“Katara…”

I’m close enough to distinguish her expression; she’s smiling, but the rest of her face is in… _agony_. There are tears hanging at the corner of her eyes.

Her scream slashes the sound of the wind around us.

Fire. There’s fire. Burning her. I don’t know from where it comes but it’s surrounding her like ropes as it slowly consumes her body. My own scream hurts my throat.

“_Mom!_”

I run. Fast. I try it to be fast – it _has_ to be fast. (Somehow I’m now farther away from her than what I was just a second ago.) (The snow feels heavier under my feet.)

Panic, tears, desperation. They are all flowing from inside me but I don’t listen to them – don’t acknowledge them. I can’t let myself to surrender to them. Not now. Not again. _Save her, save her. _

I’m close now, I see her – I see the flames, too. They are covering her as if they were her very own coat. Their light is unnaturally yellow and blinding, they certainly don’t look like any kind of fire I’ve seen before. My ears ache from Mom’s screams, I can’t see her face because she’s looking at the sky, as if she was begging the heavens to free her from her pain. I don’t allow myself to feel how icy and damp my cheeks are. _Save her, save her._

“Mom!” I stretch my arm towards her.

Suddenly a whole new row of flames arises from the snow, it burns my arm. It extends and circles around Mom, caging her in – impeding me to get to her.

Water. I need water. Where is my water vial?

_Where I am? How did I get here?_

I don’t have my water vial. There aren’t any ponds, or lakes, there’s no water. I can’t put down the fire.

_Mom_.

There are figures around me. Dark, and oddly familiar and foreign at the same time. They are… laughing. Evilly. They are wearing armors…

_Yon Rha_.

It’s him. They are _all_ him. They are circling me like the fire it’s circling my mom. Their armor – their _eyes_ – they are the same from the day that he attacked our village. The day he killed my mom.

“Mom, I’m scared.”

I am, I am scared. In a way I haven’t been in a long time.

I feel weak, I feel powerless – I _am _powerless. Frustratingly, _infuriatingly_ powerless. Yon Rha is right in front of me, he’s burning my mom in front of my eyes. And I can’t do anything to stop it. He’s _laughing_ as he does and I… I…

The world is spinning. Mom is shouting. And I’m just crying, shaking in terror.

“Mom, I’m scared.”

That’s not my voice. Or rather, it is, but… it’s a voice I had in the past.

The world is not only spinning, but stretching itself. It takes me a moment to realize it’s not the world the one that’s bigger, I’m the one that’s smaller. My hands, they are little. So little. The same size they were back at that day…

I’m a child. A small, helpless child who’s looking for her mother to come console her.

“Mom, I’m scared.”

Yon Rha’s laugh is ugly. Too high-pitched and discordant. Like a squawk.

It _is_ a squawk.

All of their faces are deforming and, their skin, whitening but also darkening; they are transforming into something…

Sea-ravens. Sea-ravens in Fire Nation armors laughing mockingly at me. The sight and the sound are terrifyingly disgusting.

“Mom, I’m scared.”

_Katara…_

Mom is still shouting, and she’s becoming little, too. Like the fire is burning her down to ashes right in the spot.

“Mom…”

_Katara…_

It looks like the fire is chewing her flesh.

“Mom…”

_Katara._

It is burning her pretty face. She’s crying.

“Mom…”

_Katara._

She’s shouting and crying. The fire is eating her. _I will never see her again._

“_Mom!_”

_Katara. _“Katara!”

I wake up with a start. My eyes are clouded with tears and I’m sobbing uncontrollably; everything around me are just colored, blurred shadows.

There’s someone near me, (I think), and I don’t take the time to find out who it is before holding on to that person… and cry.

_Mom! Mom!_

It doesn’t take me long to realize I’m holding on to a boy – a quite muscly one – and the heat from his body is intense, even through the dense fabric of the clothes he’s wearing. It’s strangely soothing.

_Mom. The snow. The fire. _

_The burns._

A pair of solid, equally muscled, arms wrap around me. I feel before I hear someone whispering close to my ear. “It’s all right, it’s all right. You’re safe now. Everything is fine.”

_Zuko_.

That’s Zuko’s voice. This is Zuko the one I’m holding on to.

A flash of memory, a tiny recall of all the anger I felt for him, passes through my mind. I bury my face in his hot chest, drowning my cries against it.

_I’m scared_.

Zuko’s muscles are hard and soft at the same time. My hands roam impulsively through his broad back, they are so defined I can distinguish all of them by touch. His chest presses itself against my face as he breathes, his heart beats against my forehead. I squirm closer.

_I’m scared_.

Mom’s screams and Yon Rha’s laugh resound in my ears. _None of that is real_, I tell myself. _None of that is real, Zuko’s real. Zuko is holding you, he’s next to you, _he_ is_ _real._

_I’m scared._

_I’m very scared._

“It’s all right.” Zuko whispers while he strokes my hair and back gently. I haven’t heard his voice so calming and sweet since we were trapped in Ba Sing Se. “You’re safe.”

I dig my fingers in his back. _You’re safe_.

I stop crying fairly slowly, until there are only soundless tears rolling down my cheeks, (blinking is uncomfortable with such sore eyes.) I don’t really want to pull away from Zuko – not yet, at least. Being near him feels good, and I want to feel good; even if it is for a short while. But I don’t want to appear clingy or helpless…

I back off.

“Sorry,” I mutter, unsure for even what am I apologizing for.

“Don’t worry.” I don’t miss the way his voice is excessively calm and soft, as if he was afraid I would breakdown again in any minute. I just don’t have the strength to be angry at it.

My gaze falls to my knees – covered by the red sheets of one of the beds in Zuko’s Ember Island House – and the two of us stay like this for a while: together, not moving, but awkwardly avoiding looking at each other. Zuko keeps looking around as if the interior of my bedroom was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen.

It dawns me then that I have a boy inside my _bedroom_...

Not that I am concentrating much on that fact, though.

I’m not really concentrating on anything, I’m just trying to not think about that awful nightmare –Which would be easier if I just stopped mentioning it.

“Are you okay?”

_No_. I nod.

Zuko looks at me like he does not believe me. He shouldn’t. “Do you want to go back to sleep?”

I shake my head.

We fall back into the awkward silence. (I have noticed that we are very good at that.)

“Do you… um… Do you want to go for a walk?”

I raise my head to him, surprised. It’s not like Zuko to offer late-night walks like that.

His gaze swaps between the door and the floor. “I mean… We could… I could go with you… If you want to… or…”

_Is he… blushing? _

I can feel a smile forming on my face, and I do little to hide it. My own eyes swap looks between him and the door. I do need a distraction after the “dream” that I had… maybe laughing a tiny bit at “blushing-Zuko” will be perfect for the chore. 

“Yeah, sure,” I agree – and I can tell by the expression of his face that he didn’t expect me to.

We leave the house together, and the cold night air along with the smell of salty water receive me when I step outside. The night is remarkably illuminated, the full moon is floating grandiosely above us in the sky.

Normally, it would remind me of the beauty and the energy of being a waterbender. Tonight it seems taunting me. Scolding me. Lecturing me about how weak I am, how much stronger I should be.

_Stronger like Hama_.

The foreign thought makes me shiver.

“Katara?” I yelp just for hearing Zuko’s voice. I turn around to find him looking at me, his eyes glinting with concern. “Are you okay?”

_No_. “Yes, yes,” I rub my arms trying to ease the goosebumps on my skin, “Sorry, I was distracted.”

He does not believe me – I can tell – but he nods anyways. “Shall we get going?”

“Yes,” I nod and follow.

Save for the waves crashing heavily against the coast, the night is eerily quiet. We walk silently down the road that leads to the beach; the silence that we are sharing is kind of different than the ones we usually fall into so easily. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s not exactly companionable, either. It’s more like we are alone, but together.

I look at Zuko through the corner of my eye. I’m amazed by how much he has changed since we first met, (if you can call ours a “meeting” at all.) Not only has he reformed internally, but also physically. Beyond his grown out hair – which, I admit, I prefer this way – it seems like his eyes are also more relaxed, now serious rather than angry… or hurt. Without the permanent frown he used to have on his face, his features seem less sharp, less stony. Still handsome, but more gentle.

Yes! I said it! Zuko _is_ handsome! Sometimes devastatingly so.

But not the delicate, slightly effeminate handsome you would expect from a prince in a child’s tale. No, Zuko is more warrior-like handsome. Strong, intense, determinate, focused – beautiful, if you see him under the right light.

Like now with the white moonshine reflecting on his dark hair as it blows loosely with the wind, making his fair skin look otherworldly pale. Even in the blackness of the night, the golden color of his eyes remains outstandingly clear and bright. They are like lanterns that could light up the road by themselves. Yeah, he’s definitely beautiful…

“What?”

I blink, caught out of guard; Zuko is looking questioningly at me. Guess I stared too hard, too long.

“Nothing,” I say, perhaps a little too overly bright, “Sorry, I was thinking.”

He worries his bottom lip. “Katara, you… you can go back if you want to.”

“What? No. I don’t want to go back.” I don’t. I’m good out here. “Why do you say that?”

“You have been quiet since we left your room.”

_Oh. _

_Right._

“Sorry. I just… I have a lot of things in mind.”

I do, actually. Since Zuko and I got to Ember Island this afternoon, I haven’t been feeling like myself. It feels like everything is just too much for me, things that usually I wouldn’t pay attention to all of a sudden feel either overwhelming or plainly cruel. Like I’m freezing in the light breeze, and the waves sound like giant fists hitting violently against each other. I never thought I could feel so uneasy when around water.

Earlier today I told Aang that I didn’t know if the reason why I didn’t kill Yon Rha was because I was strong enough to resist it, or too weak to actually do it. With this feeling – the feeling that everything overpowers me, that I can’t control anything – haunting over me, I definitely feel weak.

And guilty.

Embarrassed.

_Disappointed_.

The way that I acted during the trip – chasing Yon Rha only for revenge, brutally forcing information out of others, letting anger be my guide – that wasn’t me. Yet I did it anyways, and it only makes me feel disgusted with myself. I never knew that I could be so heartless. Never knew that I could be so cold.

_Heartless and cold. Like Hama._

I feel sick to my stomach.

“Zuko, I…,” I gulp, “I think I owe you an apology.”

The wind pulls his hair off of his face when he turns to me. “An apology? For what?”

“At the ship of the Southern Raiders…,” my voice hoarseness and I gulp again, “The chief, he…,” _You’re a bloodbender._ “I bloodbended.”

“Oh… That.” He is quiet for a while, and I wish I knew what’s going through his mind. “I didn’t know you could bloodbend.”

I wonder if he knew beforehand what bloodbending is – I don’t know if Hama _ever_ taught bloodbending to anyone else – but I don’t ask. I’m too busy fighting the bile rising in my throat. “Someone… taught me.”

We’re quiet for a few more steps, it seems like the wind and the silence mix between each other and build a wall between us. “You don’t have to apologize for it,” he says at last.

“Yes, I had to.”

“No, you don’t…”

“_Yes_, I _had_ to.” _Hama_. I’m not like her. I am better than her.

_Am I?_

I stop in my tracks and turn to Zuko with a heavy stomp of my foot. “Bloodbending is… is… something horrible! Something _despicable_! It does not _deserve_ to _exist_!”_ Bloodbenders do not deserve to exist._ “Do you have any idea what it feels to be bloodbended? What it _does_ to people? The _pain_ that it causes?” _I know; I have lived it. And I can provoke that sort of pain._ “I don’t do that! I don’t want to do that! I’m not that!” _I’m not like Hama – I don’t want to be. _“I never… I would _never_…” _I won’t be. _“I…”

“Katara.” In a second, Zuko closes the distance between us; he grabs me by the shoulders. His hands heat my skin through the cloth of my robe. “You’re trembling.”

Am I? I can’t feel anything beyond the two wet lines descending through my face.

Without thinking about it, I cling to Zuko one more time. Embarrassed by my neediness but incapable of holding back. He remembers me where I am, with who I am. I’m not with Mom, I’m not with Hama; I’m here, with him.

I can still feel his heat through both of our clothes. (Is that a firebender thing?) (Being so warm all the time?) His muscled, solid arms surround me and press me against him, and – once again – I let go and cry. Not screaming, but sobbing softly against his chest as salty tears leave my eyes. I’m a disaster, but I can’t help it; it’s so unfair. _Everything_ is so unfair. I didn’t ask for Mom to die. I didn’t ask to encounter Hama. Ever. I didn’t ask for _any_ of this.

Zuko never lets go of me while I cry. If anything, he presses me even tighter against him. He smells like skin and warmness, mixed with the smell of the ocean next to us and the night dew. _He is real. _

_The war_, I think, _it is real, too_. And everything that has happened… I can’t tell if it was for me to become stronger – to become someone that could indeed help to stop a war – or if it simply doesn’t matter anymore. But it has passed, and this is a different time. With everything that I’ve lost and done, I am here now. I have survived. I have to keep moving forward.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“It’s okay,” Zuko whispers back.

“The person that taught me bloodbending…” I start, “She forced me to do it. She bloodbended Aang and Sokka and forced them to attack me, and then each other.”

Zuko squeezes me tighter. “That’s why you hate it so much.”

I assume he can feel me nod. “She was using it for bad things,” I explain, “I bloodbended her so she would stop.”

Zuko gives me a one more reassuring squeeze. “You’re not like her, Katara.”

“How do you know?”

He shrugs. “I just know.”

“No, seriously,” I say, “How do you know I’m not like her? That I’m not like her on the inside?”

“I know what evil looks like, Katara,” he declares, tensing slightly, “I am his _son_. You are not like that.”

I tense as well, and pull back a little, just enough to look at Zuko’s face. The small spark of sincerity in his eyes comforts me, but the faint blankness of his stare scares me. It does not reveal sadness or anger, just a ghostly inexpressiveness that makes his skin look a different – colder – shade of pale.

It makes the fleshy red of his scar to outstand even more.

“Don’t worry about that anymore,” he says casually as he lets go of me. And I let go, too, to avoid any further embarrassment. “Do you want us to keep walking?”

I nod.

We keep walking down the hill where the house is settled, quiet again. This one, too, is a different kind of silence. Like we are aware of the presence of the other, but talking would ruin the strange aura that we have created around us. We are moving closer to each other than what we did before, I can feel the skin of his arm through the wind that’s passing between us.

“I’m sorry.”

My head jerks towards Zuko. “For what?”

“Mentioning my father. I get that talking about him is… I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

He looks straight at the ground as he walks, avoiding eye contact with me at all costs. His face is still inexpressive, but there’s a tension – some sort of dark feeling in the air around him that projects itself in my direction.

“We don’t mind that he’s your father, Zuko,” I tell him.

He visibly shudders, yet his voice is light when he speaks again: “How did you know that’s what I was thinking?”

“Lucky guess.”

_It’s true_, I think. None of us minds that he’s the Firelord’s son, he shouldn’t be ashamed by it.

I mean, I guess in a way we _do_ mind, because now we’re fighting the family of one of our friends, but… it’s not like being his son makes Zuko less worthy of our trust. (I understand that this is hypocrite from me to say, considering all the grudge I’ve held against him since, well, a long time – but it’s true nevertheless.)

“Do you know where your father went after Azula attacked us?,” he asks me

I shake my head. “No.”

“I’m sorry.” Zuko’s voice is a weightless whisper consumed by guilt.

“It’s not your fault,” I say, sympathetically. And I feel my own sting of guilt over what I said about the Fire Nation separating my family again. 

“Your father was very brave when we were all at the Boiling Rock,” he tells me, his voice now amazed instead of guilty, “He embarrassed the warden in front of everyone since the first minute he got there. You should have seen him, you would have been proud.”

A heating blush climbs to my cheeks. It’s very flattering that _Prince Zuko_ – of _all_ people – is impressed by my family. “I’m already proud of him.”

“He must have been an excellent warrior for the Water Tribe.”

I shrug, thinking about the last time I saw my father fight in our home tribe. Then about the last time I actually _saw_ him in our home tribe. “I guess he was. And I guess that’s why he left the village after Mom died to go fight in the war.”

“Oh...” – Geez, does he _always_ think he said the wrong thing? – “I didn’t know.”

“It’s not something that I talk about a lot.” I look up at the sky. “I really didn’t talk much about my father until recently.”

“Why?”

I shrug again. “I was very angry at him.” _For a long time_. “He left not long after Mom died and he left Sokka and me behind at our village. He never once came back, it felt like being abandoned by two people that I loved.” I embrace myself. “I mean, he left us with Gran… with our grandmother, so we weren’t alone, but…” I rub my arms, trying to warm myself from the inside out, “We were kids and we needed him. And he wasn’t there.”

A pause.

“I’m sorry for all that the war has done to your family.”

“It’s not your fault.”

We finally reach the bottom of the hill, and we surround it to walk through the shoreline. The ocean is beautiful tonight. The waves move strongly and powerfully without appearing tempestuous, the clarity of the midnight moon colors them with a hypnotic indigo blue. It’s so different than back in the South Pole. At home, the darkness of the night is always more dense, the water is always opaque even with the moon on the sky. I observe the tiny sparks lighting up and down with each tiny movement of the island’s waves, like the glinting of the stars.

“So…” Zuko trails off. _How weird of him to start a conversation._ “You were raised by your grandmother?”

I smile. “I call her Gran-Gran.”

“That’s nice,” he says, smiling, too. Not as brightly as I am, but smiling nonetheless. It’s a little adorable. “I would like to meet her someday.”

“You have met her.”

“I have?”

“Yes, you… uh… grabbed her by force the first time we met.”

“_Right_.” Zuko squeezes his eyes shut with a pained expression that – to be honest – is pretty funny. “She seemed like a lovely lady.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. This situation is too surreal. “I’ll introduce you two formally when the war is over.”

Zuko doesn’t answer, but he smiles again, timidly. It’s odd to see how shy he can be sometimes, it’s even odd to describe _him_ as “shy”. _Geez, it’s odd to describe Zuko as anything other than “angry”._

Half a year ago, that would have been unthinkable. Half a year ago, I wouldn’t have wanted to even mention Zuko’s name. A warm shiver flows through my arm when it brushes against his; I’m walking next to him – _with_ him. Willingly. The latter which is kind of unexpected when I’m talking about a guy who used to tie me to trees.

“You mind if we sit down for a while?” I ask. “I think I need a rest.”

“Sure.”

We stop and sit right on the spot, on the sand, facing the ocean in front of us.

“I feel weird,” I say, embracing my knees and resting my chin on top of them, “We have been talking about me the entire night.”

“You don’t like talking about yourself?” He turns to me, blocking the moonlight from illuminating his face. I can’t make out his expression.

“I don’t think much about it,” I absently trace circles in the sand with my finger, “I guess I truly don’t like it all that much.”

Zuko snorts. “Ty Lee would call that a blasphemy.”

“Ty Lee? As in: chi-blocking, acrobatics, pink tutu _Ty Lee_?”

He nods. “That’s her.”

I arch an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you two were friends.”

He returns his attention to the ocean. With his face back in the light, I can see him properly. His expression is somewhat lost in thought, perhaps even a little melancholic. “Childhood friends,” he mutters, “Not that close anymore.”

For some reason, this small piece of information is more shocking and bewildering than I would have thought. I try to picture a tiny Zuko and a tiny Ty Lee running around the Fire Palace...

_Perhaps Ty Lee was a little less bubbly in their childhood? Or maybe it was Zuko the one that was less broody?_ “I didn’t know you two knew each other for so long.”

He shrugs, the wind blows his hair. “She was more friends with Azula, even back then. The two of them and Mai went together to the Royal Fire Academy for Girls and…”

“Wait, wait, wait,” I hold a hand in front of me shaking my head, my mouth slack. I accentuate _every_ word: “_Royal Fire Academy for Girls?_”

Zuko smirks. I have never heard him laugh out loud but it looks like he could do so right now. “I’m not a fan of the name, either.”

“_Please_, tell me you didn’t go to a place called ‘Royal Fire Academy for _Boys_’.”

“I was a home-schooler,” he explains, imitating my posture and hugging his knees, “Tutors came to the Palace to teach me.”

_Huh. _So _Azula_ got to go to a fancy school with a pretentious name with her little best friends, while Zuko spent his days locked inside the Palace alone with strangers… Interesting.

“Anyways,” he continues, “Azula, Mai and Ty Lee became friends when we were all kids and, since their fathers are high functionaries of the Fire Nation, they spent a lot of time at the Palace, playing with Azula. I ended up playing with them by default.”

I giggle. “You didn’t know any boys your age to play with?”

“No,” he murmurs, “I didn’t actually.”

Looks like I ruined the moment_. _

I worry my bottom lip, looking for a way to ease the mood once again. At last, I pull out a nervous laugh. “At least tell me that they didn’t make you play dress up with them.”

He looks at me through the corner of his eye, and smirks, amused. _Nailed it_. “If it would have been Ty Lee alone, then she _would_ have made me. But Mai and Azula weren’t into that sort of things.”

“So what did you guys play then?”

“Oh, you know… setting apples on fire and putting them on top of other people’s heads.”

_Okaaaaaaay… _“Uh…”

“Don’t try to understand it,” Zuko covers his face with one of his hands.

“I’m not sure how to respond to that, Zuko. I mean, I only got to play with snowballs as a child, and…”

“That sounds more fun than playing with Azula,” I can _hear_ his eye-roll, “Then again, _everything_ sounds more fun than playing with Azula.”

“_That_ bad?”

“_Yes_. Imagine Azula as she is right now, only that smaller, with entire closets of stuffed animals that she burned herself, and a much more childish, maniacal mind to invent ways to torture the ones around her.”

Suddenly, I feel sorry for the teachers at the Royal Fire Academy for Girls.

“I wish I had known you back then,” I say, “We could have been friends and you wouldn’t have had to put up with Azula.”

There’s a little pause before Zuko says: “I would have liked that.”

It’s an imaginary scenario. A scenario where there was no war and no reason to fight the Fire Nation. One where either I was from the Fire Nation or Zuko was from the Southern Water Tribe. One that does not exists.

“Zuko, I…,” I bite my lip, “I’m sorry for giving you such a hard time when you first joined us. I didn’t… I’m sorry.”

I feel the weight of his gaze when he stares at me. Zuko has interesting eyes, they transmit not only the emotions that he’s feeling, but the intensity that they have, too. What feeling those emotions means to him.

“It’s okay, I deserved it,” he agrees, “I’m sorry for siding with Azula back in Ba Sing Se. I don’t think I ever truly apologized for it.”

“Don’t worry about that,” I shake my head, “Sorry again for yelling at you when we were first locked together. I guess I went back to thinking that way about you after everything that happened.”

“I deserved that, too. And I was a real jerk for ignoring you so badly at the cave. I’m sorry for that.”

“I’m sorry for calling you an angry jerk all of this time.”

“I’m sorry for yelling at you when you offered to heal my Uncle after we attacked Azula together.”

“I’m sorry for knocking you unconscious and tried to leave you in a snowstorm back at the North Pole.”

“I’m sorry that I knocked you out before that.”

“I’m sorry for freezing you in an ice block.”

“I’m sorry for hiring a bounty hunter to track you down.”

“I’m sorry for telling you to jump to the river when you kidnapped me with pirates.”

“I’m sorry for _kidnapping _you with pirates… And I’m sorry for taking your necklace to track you down. And sorry for calling you a peasant, and… sorry for grabbing your grandmother by force when we first met.”

_Well…_ “I guess that’s all.”

“Yeah,” Zuko lets go off his knees and stretches them. He leans backwards and steadies himself with his two hands pressed against the ground, “And I realize that I was a bigger jerk than what I thought.”

“Can’t argue with you there,” I copy his posture, “But I’m glad you’re not a jerk anymore.”

He smiles but it quickly goes down. “I was a jerk when I returned to the Fire Nation, too. Before I left and joined you, I was angrier than ever, and I hurt a lot of people because of it. I treated Ty Lee very badly once that she tried to help me,” his voice lowers and becomes thinner at the same time, “I think I never apologized for that, either.”

I stretch a hand towards his shoulder and rub it softly, comfortingly. “You’ll get the chance to apologize,” I say, “And she’ll forgive you. Friendship requires forgiveness, and forgiveness heals friendships.”

He smiles again. It feels good to make Zuko smile.

Abruptly, the moment weighs far more intimate than what it truly is. My hand is still resting on Zuko’s shoulder – Zuko’s broad, strong shoulder – and my skin prickles. It feels warming and exciting, but overwhelming. And a little scary.

I withdrew my hand.

“So…” I search for a new conversation topic. Preferably one more casual. “What do you like to do for fun?”

Zuko chuckles. “Is that a question all girls ask?”

“It’s a conversation-starter.”

“Well, not for me. I don’t really do anything for fun.”

_Setting apples on fire and not doing anything for fun. _Zuko definitely has weird ways to entertain himself.

“Nothing? Nothing _at all_?”

“Well, no.” He rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I don’t know if you have noticed, but my life hasn’t given me much space to have fun.”

“There must be something that you do that you enjoy.”

“I enjoy practicing with my swords. Wouldn’t call that for _fun_, though.”

“Maybe you and Sokka can keep practicing sword fighting together one of these days.”

He shrugs. “If Sokka wants to.”

“What about Pai-Sho? Do you like playing Pai-Sho?”

“That’s more my uncle’s thing.”

My eyes drift to the ocean. “What about swimming? Swimming is fun.”

He shakes his head.

Okay, I _refuse_ to believe that someone can spend his life without having _any_ kind of fun. _Think, Katara, think! What could Zuko possibly like to do?_

The sound of fingers snapping startles me, and it takes me a second to realize that it is Zuko the one that snapped them. He’s smiling excitedly. “Feeding turtle-ducks! I like feeding turtle-ducks!”

I blink. (He being friends with Ty Lee was shocking, this is… dumbfounding.)

His smile goes down slowly, at the same rate a blush colors his cheeks. “I know it’s lame.”

“What? No, no!” I wash away my initial shock fast. (I can only imagine what impression it must’ve gave Zuko.) “It’s not that, it’s just… I didn’t expect it.”

He shrugs. (I have noticed that he does that whenever he wants to lessen the importance of things that, indeed, have plenty of it.) “I used to feed turtle-ducks with my mother when I was little. I keep doing it to keep the memory alive.”

Sorrow fills my heart. I feel sadness and empathy for the boy that lost somebody he loved, the same way that I did. “I bet she would be happy that you keep her memory alive that way.”

“You think?” His question is expectant, as if my answer would be the undeniable truth about what his mother would really feel.

“Yes.”

We return being silent, but this one is definitely companionable. My mind wanders, and I wish I knew to where Zuko’s mind is wandering, too. Everything about this night has been new, disconcerting but enlightening. I have learned things about Zuko I would have never guessed, not even in a million years. They are very small, mere details of the person he was in the past – the new person he is right now – but they are significant. I want to keep talking to him, (turns out he is far more interesting than what I thought when I was tied to that tree), but I think this has been enough of an emotional night. We need to go back to sleep if we want to get up in the morning.

“We should go back to the house,” I stand up and brush the sand off my clothes, “I think I’m ready to go back to sleep.”

Zuko smiles up at me and stands up as well.

We walk back to the house – “mansion” is more accurate, actually. I don’t know why I am so happy, but all of a sudden this feels like a very good night. I couldn’t ask for a better place to stay than near the ocean, and the full moon is not only beautiful, but divine glowing up in the sky.

“You sure you can go back to sleep?” Zuko asks me before I get into my room.

“Yes, I’m good. Thanks.” I do feel good. I don’t remember feeling anything less than good. “Thanks for tonight, Zuko.”


	5. Early in the morning

**Katara**

I wake up much earlier than I usually do.

I’m not sure why, my eyes just open themselves groggily at some point in the early morning.

I don’t know how much time I’ve slept since I returned to my room after being with Zuko last night, but I get the feeling that if I don’t wake up now then I won’t wake up until noon. I push away the sheets and head outside.

Ember Island is nothing like the Western Air Temple, the weather here is already warm even when the sun is barely coming out. There are tiny spots of yellowish and pinkish tones on the grayish blue sky. I take a deep breath of the sea breeze.

Nobody is awake yet, I can use this time to start to make breakfast. I’m going to need some water to boil the food… And, since we only have salty water around here, I’m going to need to boil and filter the water first…

(One would think that, as a waterbender, I could bend the water away from the salt; I can’t.) (Believe me, I have tried.)

Well, better start off with today’s work! _Maybe I can bend the water to come here to me from the beach…_ No, better not. I don’t want to rely so much on my bending to the point of using it for such mundane stuff.

I grab a couple of cooking pots – I have to make a mental note to look for more of these; these are the last ones that we have, all the others got lost during our many quests around the world – and head to the beach to grab the water by myself.

Walking down the hill is reminiscing of last night, it brings a smile to my face. I should thank Zuko again for being so nice to me after that nightmare that I had. Who could have known he could be so sensitive and understanding?

Maybe it is because of his “big brother-status” – Sokka _has_ had his moments through the years, too. Then again, I can’t imagine _Azula_ having a nightmare. (More like _being_ the nightmare.)

I reach the bottom of the hill and head to the shoreline. Zuko is near the water… Shirtless.

He’s soaking wet from head to toe, noticeable drops run down through his torso, glistening his skin. In the faint daylight, it looks more rosy instead of pale; I can discern the toned, tense but relaxed muscles underneath it. One of his hands grasps his discarded shirt, and he uses the other to hold some water and splash it on his hair. The muscles of his shoulders and underarms shift with the motion.

I let go off the pots in my hand.

And I wish, wish, _wish_ I hadn’t, because their clacking sound as they hit the ground calls out Zuko’s attention.

He smiles when he sees me. (Zuko has a different kind of smile.) (One that can break your heart. One that reveals all the pain inside him, so the joy shines against it.)

_Is it hot in here? It feels hot. I feels _steamy_! –_ I’m having trouble controlling my breathing, I hear my own heart hammering inside my chest, I think I’m shaking but it feels more like I am… _vibrating_.

“Good morning.” Zuko approaches me… with his shirt still off.

(Does he _has_ to walk around without a shirt?)

(Do I _want_ him to put on a shirt?)

“Good morning,” I say, belatedly. And a little breathy. I don’t know why I feel so embarrassed, I’ve seen boys shirtless before… I’ve seen _Aang and Sokka_ shirtless before!

But, yeah, Sokka is my brother and Aang, well... he doesn’t has Zuko’s broad back and taut muscles. (_Why can’t I stop thinking about his muscles?_)

“You’re up early.” The words leave my lips unconsciously as my eyes follow the droplets of salty water roving Zuko’s torso, they run down the pronouncedly curvy trail of his abs.

“You, too.” Zuko pushes his wet hair off his face, I watch the muscles of his underarms shifting again. (Is he doing _that_ on purpose?)

“I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep.” I don’t take the time to notice how automatic my words are coming out. My eyes don’t limit themselves to the droplets, they roam all over Zuko’s torso. “I decided to come get water to start breakfast.”

Apparently oblivious to my… (not ogling. I don’t ogle. Gran-Gran taught me that respectful ladies don’t ogle.) (Besides, I _have_ more dignity than to ogle!) _stare_, Zuko says: “I couldn’t sleep, either. I came to practice my bending since before the sun came up.”

“Mm-hmmm,” I nod. _I don’t ogle. Why do I feel like I’m ogling?..._

I drag my eyes away from Zuko’s naked chest and up to his face. He’s smiling, more relaxed than what he has been since he joined the group. I have the feeling it is because I don’t hate him anymore. Meanwhile, this that I am feeling right now – this _heat_ – makes me wish I _still_ hated him…

A thought crosses my mind. “You didn’t sleep in the entire night?”

Zuko’s kind of freezes at the question. “Of course I did. Until…,” he sheepishly avoids my gaze.

_Until I woke him up with my childish nightmares_.

Right_._

Blood flows to my face so quickly you would think it’s being bended. “I’m sorry – ”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Zuko cuts me off, his smile turning sympathetic – although, a little awkward. He looks like he isn’t really used to receiving apologies.

For all that I know, Zuko isn’t really used to social interaction.

He slips his arms into the sleeves of his shirt; the motion displays his broad, sculptural chest in all of its splendor. He starts putting on his shirt, and I oddly feel relieved, angered and baffled at it. I take one last glance at his perfectly defined abs, amazed by how his perfect, god-like body complements his classical good-looks. I wonder if he resembles his father, I _refuse_ to believe that such a vile man as Firelord Ozai can be so… _nice_ to look at.

But, then again, I had considered Zuko just as vile not too long ago… So maybe I just don’t know anything.

“You want me to help you with breakfast?” He takes the pots from the ground and hands them over to me. For the first time, I notice how nice-shaped his hands are. And how calloused they are, too.

_Nothing about Zuko resembles a prince_, I think_. Everything about him is so raw and unrefined. Real._

“You know how to cook?” I don’t mean my voice to come out so disbelieving, but it does. I take the pots.

“Um… A little bit. I mean, not much – not very good – but, when at the Earth Kingdom, my uncle and I were all alone and we needed to feed ourselves, so he taught me to cook somewhat decently. Besides, we… we kinda worked at a tea shop. As waiters but...”

“_You_ worked as a waiter?” If my voice was disbelieving before, now it’s plain skeptical. I feel the urge to laugh out loud, but I press my lips together to hold back. (I remember how Zuko reacted last night after he thought I believed he was lame.)

He looks away and scowls. And blushes.

And that’s it, the laugh comes out of my mouth loud and ringing. _This is going to be a great day_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I believe Katara, indeed, CAN bend the water away from the ocean salt. But I think it would be realistic that, (as talented as Katara can be in waterbending), a 14-year-old still didn't understand ALL the complexities of her abilities.


	6. Talk to me

**Katara**

“Zuko, why didn’t you tell us you had a _beach mansion_ before? We would have started to hang out with you a lot sooner!”

“_Sokka!_” I can’t _believe_ my own brother’s manners! Were we even raised by the same Gran-Gran?

“It’s a former beach house,” Zuko clarifies as he recollects the plates of everyone as they finish their breakfast. He has made good on his offer from this morning, not only he helped me cook, but now he’s making use of his “waitering” skills – (Can you believe it?) (_Waiter!_) – to help me collect the dishes, “My family hasn’t been here in years. And this part of the island is private property; we won’t be seen even by the locals. It’s the perfect hideout.”

“And it has some _amazing_ suites,” Sokka stretches his arms lazily. His posture is much more relaxed now that we have all slept in actual beds instead of concrete floors or grassy grounds.

“Sokka,” I look at him severely over my plate of rice, “Could you show some respect when we are in front of the owner of the house?”

“What?” He raises his palms in defeat. (His expression of shocked innocence does not fool me for even _one_ second.) “It’s a compliment!”

“Don’t worry about that,” Zuko says calmly as he puts the plates in a far end of the table at the dining hall in which we are eating, “Make yourselves at home.”

We decided to have breakfast in actual indoors for a change. Although, I would have preferred to eat outside.

The dining hall is magnificent. Ample, and equipped with a table and the chairs to be occupied by 16 guests; but it’s so poorly illuminated it looks terribly spooky. Not to mention that, aside from the table and the chairs, the rest of the furniture apparently has been removed, leaving the immense room insanely empty. It’s making me feel inadequate.

“It does feel good to have slept on a bed after so much time,” Toph copies Sokka’s lazy stretch, “And Snoozles is right about something: the beds in this house are _amazing_.”

“I still wanted the bedroom with the view to the beach, though,” Sokka pouts, “Why does Zuko gets to have it?”

“Because he’s the owner of the house, maybe?” I offer.

“Because that’s my old bedroom,” Zuko answers.

Oh. 

“Oh.” Apparently Sokka and I do have a “sibling telepathic connection”.

A beat passes. Everyone in the table is quiet. The kind of quiet that happens before we get into one of our crazy antics.

Aang hits the table with the palm of his hands, “Who wants to go see Zuko’s old bedroom?!”

“I want!” The chorus between Toph, Sokka and Suki is surprisingly harmonious.

The only thing more surprising is the speed with which they exit the room, leaving a puff of dust behind them.

“Hey!” Zuko half stands up but sits down again with a sigh, “Ugh, whatever. There’s nothing important in there, anyways.”

I stand up to take away the dishes. “This is house is very beautiful, Zuko,” I say, trying to change the subject, and admiring a little my surroundings.

The Fire Nation’s Royal Family beach house is, indeed, very beautiful. The structure from the outside is imposing, shaped in a picturesque fashion that resembles a palace itself. Even on the inside, despite the clear sings that it hasn’t been habited in a long time, its ampleness, the distribution of the rooms and the remaining furniture are so splendid and elegant that it still looks like something taken out of a tale of royalty. I picture what it must have looked like when Zuko and his family still came here, and then I try to imagine what it must have been like to live in such opulence. Throughout our trip I’ve already seen many impressive houses and even palaces, but they never stop surprising me.

“Thanks,” Zuko stands up as well, following my gaze to the old joists in the roof, “It needs a little maintenance, doesn’t it? My father doesn’t even sends cleaning staff here anymore, I’m pretty sure he forgot this place exists.”

I don’t consider myself self-conscious about my more humble origins in the Water Tribe, but hearing things like “cleaning staff” always makes me feel a little out of place for some reason.

“It’s funny,” I whisper, thoughtfully, “Firelord Ozai doesn’t seems like the type to have relaxing summer vacations.”

“He doesn’t. Not anymore. The last time we were here was with my mother… And it was even a long time before she… _left_.”

I turn around to look at Zuko. He’s looking through one of the few windows in the room, one that shows only a glimpse of ocean besides the grassy lanes of the island.

I walk to stand next to him. “Tell me more about that time.”

It’s an odd request from my part, but I was really bitter to Zuko after the first time he opened up about his mom – (I mean, I had my reasons, but…) – I want to make it up to him.

Besides, I told the others about it without his consent. I can’t help but feel that I betrayed his trust by doing so.

“There’s not much to tell,” he starts after a shrug, looking straight at the sight of blue from the ocean, “Well, there is, but it’s nothing too remarkable. Back at that time we were like a normal family. Or that was how it looked like at the moment.”

The “_I don’t know if we were ever a normal family”_ floats in the air between us.

“Azula and I used to reenact the parts of ‘Love amongst the Dragons’ every time we came here,” he continues, his voice sounds like it’s miles away, “It’s one of the few memories that we share in which we are both happy... I guess it was a time when my family was _actually_ happy.”

_Zuko…_

I reach to touch him, but pull back. There’s not much that I can do to make things better for him.

I don’t know if there’s something that I can do at all, or if there’s even something that can be fixed. Zuko is broken beyond repair. Absolutely shattered. It’s not only heart-breaking to see, but soul-wrecking. It’s like your own soul encountered other that has been so torn and harrow to the point of bleeding darkness and becoming pain itself.

“Being in this house brings back some memories,” he murmurs as he caresses the window frame.

“_Good_ memories?” I venture.

Zuko smiles sadly. “It’s hard to think about something good that has to do with my family.”

“Zuko,” Aang’s distant voice breaks into the room, “did you make this ‘I-heart-Daddy’ drawings?”

Zuko’s face turns as red as the ruby red silk sheets in the house’s bedrooms. A horrified gasp escapes his throat. “I forgot about that. Don’t look at that box. Don’t look at that box!”

He runs upstairs.


	7. Liar, liar

**Zuko**

“_Awwwwww!_ Little Widdle Zuko had a turtle-duck doll to sleep with!”

Aang is hugging my old stuffed animal that he got from the “memories-box” that I kept under my bed, and I’ve never thought about how good his bald head would look if it spontaneously blew up until now.

“It’s not a doll, it’s a ‘cloth-pet’!,” I yell, “And give her back to me!” I take the stupid thing off from the stupid kid’s hands.

“Is it a girl?”

“Shut up!”

“Cloth-pet,” Sokka muses from the courtyard’s stairs, “Cloth like this tiny baby Zuko’s pajamas over here?”

Him, Toph and Suki all laugh in unison as he holds one of my old pajamas in his hands.

“Give me that, too!” I rip it from his hands and push the two damned things back inside the box. I should have burned all of these stuff! I should push these bunch of fatheads inside the box and burn them with it! I take the idiotic thing in my hands to take it as far away from them as possible.

“Speaking about cloth,” Suki says, looking ashamedly at her raggedy clothes – the Boiling Rock’s inmate uniform that she hasn’t got a chance to change yet – “When do we head out to get _me_ some Fire Nation clothes?” She pulls at the end of the hem of her shamefully dirty shirt, “I’m tired of wearing this thing.”

“Don’t you worry, Sooks,” Toph shakes a hand dismissively, “As soon as Katara gets out, we’re doing some ‘Wardrobe Renovation’. Team Avatar’s style.”

“Now that you mention it,” I intervene, “how did you guys get Fire Nation clothes in the first place?”

I was kind of shocked when they just changed into them a while ago. (“Just in case someone spots us”, they said.) It’s bizarre to see all of them walking so casually in typical clothes from my home country. Especially Aang with his airbender tattoos coming out through the sleeves and the neck of his shirt.

They all stare at me and exchange looks between each other. Sokka is the one to answer. Sort of. “We… uh…”

“You know what,” I cut him off, “I don’t really want to know.”

“Excellent decision!”

“Why is Katara taking so long?” Toph crosses her arms over her chest, “C’mon, Sugar Queen!” She yells towards the inside of the house. _Sugar Queen?_, I think. “We gotta get going before people start putting their clothes on!”

“Sorry,” Katara steps out of the house adjusting a topknot in her head, “I was having trouble fixing my hair.”

She has changed into her own Fire Nation attire as well. She’s now wearing a skintight scarlet red off-the-shoulder top that exposes all of her stomach, and a long skirt that reaches down to her calves.

The box in my hands hits the ground.

Or rather, it hits my foot! – “Ouch!”

“Everything okay, Sparky?” Toph asks my way.

“Yeah. Totally,” I mutter.

Everything is _far_ from okay, I shouldn’t feel so damn aroused from seeing Katara’s bare stomach! She’s just a kid! (Well, she really isn’t, but…) She’s my friend! (That’s not necessarily an impediment for this that I’m feeling.) I have a girlfriend! (I _don’t_ have a girlfriend.) _Ugh!_

“Wait,” I turn to Toph, “Did you just… call me ‘Sparky’?”

She shrugs nonchalantly. “If you’re gonna be in the group, you’re gonna need a nickname,” she gestures towards everyone in the group as she speaks, “Snoozles, Sooks, Twinkletoes, Sugar Queen; the only one that’s left is you. I was thinking about ‘Zuzu’, but that would be lame.”

I don’t even know how to answer to that.

“Oh, sure,” Katara breaks in. She lets go of her hair and drops her arms at her sides; save for her topknot and a pair of tied thick strands, her hair is loose and more wavy than usual. I am _decisively _keeping my eyes on her face. “Because ‘Sparky’ is just _so_ original for a firebender.”

Toph frowns and grabs her chin in a pensive pose. “Yeah, you’re right, Sugar Queen. I can totally do better than that. Let me think; what about ‘Drama King’? – No, no, no! Drama _Prince_!”

“Stop it,” my words come out through clenched teeth.

She shrugs. “Sparky it is. Guess you’re still our only ‘inside-royalty’, Princess.” Katara scowls at the comment directed to her.

_Princess?_ It fits her.

“That silk robe is beautiful, Katara!” Suki’s eyes light up at the sight of clothes that are… not trashy.

“Thank you,” Katara spins around for Suki – and, indirectly, _me_ – to get a full view. The curve of her bare back is a sight of beauty. I bite my bottom lip, painfully. “We’ll get you something just as nice. If not, better.”

“I hope so.”

Sokka is one lucky guy. I would have _killed_ for having a girlfriend and a sister that got along _that_ well.

Katara’s eyes wander through the courtyard and meet my own, observing her. We hold each other’s gaze for a couple of seconds.

Then, my eyes drift down to her uncovered stomach.

I still remember when I waited outside her tent to talk to her about her mother, I wondered what her bare skin would look like. I don’t have to wonder anymore.

Her skin is much darker than most Fire Nation citizens. It’s intriguing. It’s harmonic with the shade of red she’s wearing.

“You sure you’re okay, Sparky?”

“Yeah, sure. Why?”_ I _hate _how breathy that came out!_

“Your pulse just skyrocketed.”

_What sense does it have lying to someone who can tell when you’re lying?_ “It’s nothing,” I say.

“I can tell you’re lying.”

_Have you ever thought that people doesn’t need _you_ poking in their lives?_

“Toph, we have to get going to look for clothes for Suki,” Katara interrupts us. She and Suki are standing up and heading to the door. “And we should also look for something to cover Aang’s head arrow, too.”

“Yeah,” Toph agrees standing up from her seat as well, “I don’t think the headband will work anymore now that Baldy cut off his hair.”

_He _had_ hair?_

“And make sure not to pick up anything preppy-style,” Sokka adds, “We don’t have time to get infiltrated into another Fire Nation school.”

_They got infiltrated into a Fire Nation school? _

“This house would be amazing to organize a dance party, though,” he exclaims, admiring the surroundings.

_Dance party? These guys were organizing _dance parties_ while inside the _Fire Nation_?_

“Got it!” Toph gives him a thumps-up, “All right, let’s head out, girls! Let’s leave the boys alone to grow some facial hair or something.”

She whispers when she brushes past me, “Or take a cold shower.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can't keep secrets from Toph :)


	8. Past and Present

**Katara**

I adore the outfit that we found for Suki!

I love my own Fire Nation robe but if we had found something like Suki’s terracotta halter top when we were getting our clothes, I would have probably picked it up for myself.

After grabbing her top and matching pants along with a red wine cloth belt and sandals from a clothesline near the beach – lots of people around the country are going to start complaining over a serial “clothes-stealer” sooner rather than later – we headed to buy her some bracelets and a pair of fingerless gloves to complete the look. (Ember Island’s bazaar has some of the most lovely jewelry pieces I’ve ever seen!) (I wish we had time to go on a shopping-spree...) I sigh.

I also helped Suki comb and style her hair for it not to look like she was just attacked by a wild spider-cat. It’s so relieving to see her back in her beautiful appearance instead of having her looking like… well… _harrumph_… like she was a prison fugitive.

“I’m hungry!” Toph complains from her sitting spot in the courtyard, the latter which has turned into our new hang-out-place. (Why wouldn’t it? It’s beautiful, and it’s the perfect place to receive some pleasing sunlight.)

“I’m going to start dinner,” I say, standing up. It’s a bit early for it, (the sun is barely coming down), but who cares, right? Maybe we’ll go to bed a whole lot earlier if we eat now.

“I don’t think there are enough cooking pots for it, Katara.” Aang stops me before I can get to the kitchen. A suspiciously guilty blush colors his cheeks. “I… ah… I kinda used them to practice my firebending aim while you were out and I…” He gulps once. Twice. “I blew them up.”

“You _what_?”

“We agreed not to tell her!” Sokka yells at Aang.

“She was going to find out anyways!” Aang retorts.

“You knew about this?” I yell at Sokka.

“He was the one to tell me to use the pots,” Aang points accusingly at my brother – my dumb, _dumb_ brother.

“And I also told you not to tell her about it! Do you listen only half of the times, or what?”

“_You_ knew about this?” I ask, turning to Zuko.

He’s sitting next to us with his arms crossed over his chest, much more relaxed than what the crisis at hand demands. “By the time I found out, they had already blew the pots.”

_And right when I thought we were having a _normal_ day._

I hit my forehead with the palm of my hand.

“Well done, geniuses!” Toph’s spits at them. Thank Spirits, she sounds just as angry as I’m feeling. “How are we gonna eat now?”

“Calm down,” Zuko says, standing up as well.

_Don’t tell me to calm down, Sparky, _I think at him. _You’re supposed to be my friend; you’re supposed to keep things like this from happening!_

“Before we left this house, the servants saved the furniture and the casseroles in the attic,” he explains, “I’m sure they are still there.”

“You _sure_?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Unless you know somewhere else to find cooking pots around here.”

_Ugh!_ I growl.

“C’mon, I’ll help you find some.”

We get into the house together, and I follow Zuko through the corridors and then the stairs that lead to the attic.

This place is much bigger than what I thought, the hallways are endless. The dark tinge of red in which the walls are painted obscures the house’s already poor illumination, Zuko actually has to cast a tiny flame in his hand to light up the room as we walk. I’m tempted to tell him that if he had put more attention to what Aang and Sokka were doing while I was out, we wouldn’t have had to get into this cavern-like darkness – but I’m trying to keep our fights minimum. (There has already been enough animosity between us to cover up for a lifetime.)

I keep my eyes on him as he walks ahead of me, and I try to picture him walking around when his family still came to visit the island. (Imagine how beautiful this house must have been back then!) (With more functioning lamps to keep it from looking like a blood red wolf’s mouth.) Zuko said that the last time they were here was when he was a kid. I suppose at that time his back wasn’t so broad... And his shoulders weren’t so squared… And…

“Looks like the door is locked,” he stops at the top of the stairs. I stop, too – a little too abruptly – in order to not crash against him.

The door to the attic is much smaller than I had expected, the smallest door I’ve seen in the house until now. And the dustiest one, too. Zuko struggles with the metallic doorknob for a few seconds but it does not open.

“I would kick it down,” he says, “but with everything that’s inside I don’t think that would be that much of a good idea,” he steps back, still studying the door as if he could find another solution just by doing so. “Maybe we can go back and ask Toph to metalbend the lock.”

I look at the rusty door handle. “Let me try something out.”

I bend a few drops out of my water vial and push them inside the latch, up to the core of the deadlock. One of the lessons I’m thankful to Hama is to teach me to feel the water particles around me; I can feel the droplets moving and sliding through the metal. Once they reach the security device, I freeze them down to polar temperatures… until we hear a click.

I try the knob once more and it opens effortlessly. 

Zuko’s eyes go wide with appreciation, “Nice.”

I push the door open.

“Katara, watch out!”

In a swift move, Zuko grabs my arm and pulls me against him just in time to avoid a tall oil lamp from falling on my head.

**Zuko**

I sigh, relieved. “That was close.”

Katara’s eyes are glued to the pieces of the smashed lamp on the floor. (I remember that lamp; it weighs a _ton_.) “Why is it that every time you’re around something falls on top of me?”

I turn to glare at her. “Be grateful that I am around to keep things from _actually_ falling on top of you.”

“Maybe you give bad luck.”

That would explain a lot of things – but she doesn’t need to know that.

“You know,” I say, “I’m starting to think you need to practice your way of saying thank you.”

She turns to look at me. Frowning.

Her face it’s just inches away from mine, I can see the blue color of her eyes vividly. (This is one of the times when her eyes look deep sky blue. Sometimes they change the tone depending on the light.) I realize the reason why we are so close is because she’s pressed against me – I’m _holding_ her against me. My arms are surrounding her lower back – her _bare_ lower back – and her hands are resting over my chest.

Judging by how her eyes are widening, she just realized the same thing…

We let go of each other as fast as we can. (Okay, this is awkward.)

(And I don’t mean the kind of awkward that happens whenever I try to be social.)

“Thanks for… uh… not letting me be hit on the head.”

“No problem.”

A beat passes.

“We should go look for the cooking pots.” Katara steps into the attic.

_Cooking pots. Right. _

I follow her inside.

***

“What happened in here?” Those are Katara’s first words after entering the room… and seeing the walls darkened with burn marks. “A volcano?”

“_Azula_ happened in here. This”, I gesture to all the four scorched walls, “is what happens when a six-year-old learns how to cast blue fire.”

Katara looks at the walls with a strange expression in her face, before driving her attention to the furniture and the closets around us. “You don’t really know where the casseroles are, right?”

I shake my head. (What does she wants from me? I never claimed to be the homey type.)

She sighs. “All right. Go look on those boxes. I’ll look inside the closets.”

(Has she always been this bossy or am I just finding out?) I kneel next to a bunch of boxes that are near the door.

I never noticed we kept so much things in this house, the room is filled up to the ceiling with dusty lamps, chairs, cabinets and boxes piled one on top of the other. All of them are painted with red and golden patterns, which should make them look familiar, but all I can feel is the mirage of a memory of them. As if my own memories belonged to someone else instead of me.

I remember Azula and me playing hide-and-seek here. Us looking for things to play with, registering the room believing that we would find some kind of treasure or secret passage if we looked hard enough. All of that feels like those were different people, different little siblings playing with each other. I remember Azula actually being affectionate, which is just something moronic to think.

“Nothing here,” I say, standing up and stepping away.

“Nothing in here, either,” Katara is facing one of the old cabinets with her back turned to me.

I’ve noticed I like her hair better when it’s loose. Her dark brown locks fall down her back fluidly like a waterfall, they almost reach down to her hips. Katara’s waist is very narrow, yet her hips are just the slightest wide…

“I did find this, though,” she turns around, carrying a brown leather bound notebook in her hands. I recognize it immediately. _Oh no._ “I’d have never imagined you had a diary, Zuko.”

_And I could have lived without you ever finding out._

“Katara, give me that back.” I try to take the notebook away from her hands but she has surprisingly better reflexes than what I thought. She pulls it away before I even get to touch it.

“Why isn’t it in the box you kept downstairs?”

“Because I didn’t want to remember it.” I reach for it again and she pulls it even farther back behind her shoulder.

“Why? What’s in here that has you so worked up?”

“_Nothing_.” I try to put a touch of my former hostility in my voice. (I _did_ change, but nobody said I couldn’t go back to my old... methods once in a while.)

I can’t decide whether it’s a good or bad sign that Katara has outgrown her fear to my past self. The only thing I get from her is an unimpressed, ironic smirk. “I guess I’ll have to find out by myself.”

Just like that, she opens the notebook right in front of me and starts reading it.

(No, no, no, no! She can’t read that thing!) (It’s too humiliating!)

I reach for the notebook once more but Katara pulls it even farther back and keeps me at bay with one hand; (she’s _also_ surprisingly stronger than what I thought.) I struggle to get the damned thing off from her hands while she keeps shoving it away from my reach. If I had known bringing these people to the house would bring this much trouble, I would have never let them come past the door!

Katara stretches her arms as high as she can and shifts the notebook between her hands as I try for her to bring it down. The moment wouldn’t be complete without grunts and sneers.

“Give me that back, Katara!”

“What’s the magic word?”

I launch myself to rip the notebook off from her hands if necessary, and I push us both to crash against the closet behind her back. Not that I really care. And apparently she doesn’t care, either, because she’s just as fierce, if not fiercer, in her attempts to keep it away from me. I stretch, and she stretches higher.

_“_Are _all_ younger sisters this much annoying,” I taunt, still struggling, “or is it that I have encountered the _most_ annoying ones in my life?”

“It has always been fun to say _no_ to you.”

_Why you little – _

I grab one of her arms and finally pull it down. I use the hand with which I’m grabbing it to pin it to the closet’s door; she can’t shift hands now.

It’s very difficult for her to move so agilely when I’m keeping her glued to the wooden door, she only moves her hand away from mine as I try to take my former diary away from her, and it’s not like there’s much place where she can move because of how close we are. Lucky me that I am _indeed_ much taller than her when I stand at my full height; it does not take me long to catch her wrist and pull her stretched arm down.

It’s easy to take the notebook away from her after that. “Ha, ha.”

She glares at me. “Jerk.”

I glare back. “You started it.”

She looks away, frowning. _Oh, sure, when it’s the others, they are jerks; but when it’s you, you have nothing to say, right?_

Her pulse speeds up under my thumb (probably out of anger) and she scowls directly at my chest. I’m surprised by the sudden height difference between us, I’m more than a head taller than Katara. Looking down, she looks small, skinny and delicate. All wavy brown hair, angelic facial features, and feminine, prominent curves pressed up against me.

_Pressed up against me._

_She’s pressed up against me._

_I’m _pressing_ her against me._

_I’m _pinning_ her and _caging_ her against a wooden door, for Spirit’s sake!_

A hasty shot of shame, tenseness and a tickly, sharp sort of panic fires itself through me. Almost before I can think about it, I back off a step – and stumble against a set of boxes close to my foot. They all fall down next to us with strong and awfully dissonant clattering sounds.

(If my father was here and he wasn’t, you know, a dictator and mass murderer in full force; would he be angrier that I probably broke something from our silverware or that I was nearly –_ nearly_, take note of that – rubbing against a girl in our own attic?)

“Oh, look. There are the pots,” Katara points to the dropped content of the boxes scattered all over the floor. They are mostly metallic crockpots decorated with some more bright red and golden patterns, and some ceramic dishes.

_Perfect_. This whole situation is just _perfect_.

“Let’s take some and bring them downstairs,” Katara immediately bends down to pick them up. The posture drives the attention to her small waist.

“Right,” I say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Girly Katara, socially awkward Zuko... Even *I* love this chapter! <3 <3
> 
> Also, if any of you try to tell me that Zuko didn't keep a memories box and diary filled with little boy-drawings filled with colors and childish joy, then save your breath because you're WRONG!


	9. Heroes

**Katara**

“_Why_ did I have to come along again?”

I smirk mockingly at Zuko, who draw the short straw today – (literally, we actually play that game when we have a decision to make) – and has to accompany me to buy food in Ember Island’s market. (I’m the designated food buyer/cooker in the group, but we have a relatively recent rule to not go out alone after all the times we have almost being imprisoned or roasted alive, so we decided to never go out again without at least one more person of the group.) (The whole cutting straws and seeing who draws out the smallest is because not everybody likes to do something as unexciting as going to the market to look for groceries.)

Aang would have gladly accompany me today, I know; but since he’s still on his avatar-training-schedule, he and Toph are having more earthbending practice while Zuko comes with me.

It does not requires a genius to figure out that Zuko does not enjoy going for groceries, either. But at least he’s sticking to the rules in the group. (_Ah_, rules!) (Finally some common sense is coming down to all of us!)

“You chose the shortest straw, remember?” I say, “Now you have to come buy vegetables with me. That’s how the game works.”

“Yeah, because making group decisions based on a _game_ is totally mature and formal.”

“Not everything has to be a big, boring business conference, Zuko.”

“I think a conference is better described as ‘serious’.”

“It’s ‘_seriously_’ boring.”

Zuko frowns at me. I laugh.

“I thought you were the serious one in the group,” he reminds me.

“I _am_,” I playfully step into a water pond, and then another, “But some things are worth a more easy-going approach.”

“Mm-hmm,” Zuko’s slightly unimpressed hum is unexpectedly more amusing than you would think.

I don’t know why, but since Zuko got chosen as the one accompanying me today, I’ve felt much more relieved. Perhaps it is because he’s an actual native from the Fire Nation – which is still hostile territory for Team Avatar – and he has visited Ember Island before, so he knows the culture _and_ the zone. He’s perfect for helping me mix with the crowd!

I mean… Aang’s advices and knowledge about the Fire Nation would have been useful, too… Around a hundred years ago.

Although, I have to admit I got worried about how on Earth we could possibly hide Zuko’s identity. He’s not only the Prince of the Fire Nation, he’s also the _traitorous_ Prince of the Fire Nation; if the locals ever found out about who he is, I don’t doubt they would be harsher on him than possibly all the rest of us, Aang included.

His scar is a significant, if not “absolutely-revealing”, proof about who he is. I thought he wouldn’t be able to step outside the house without a mask that hid his entire face.

Turns out his disguise could be surprisingly simpler than that. (As simple as a black cape with a hood to cover up a person’s whole face can be.)

He looks like somewhat of a somber figure walking around in the middle of the day with that dark cloak covering him, there are a lot of pedestrians shooting disconcerted, (and a little frightened), looks at us. But I guess it’s preferable to have a few nosy neighbors instead of an entire mob chasing us out of the island. To be honest, I think the outfit fits him. And he doesn’t look nearly as terrifying as he truly was back when we first met. Even though I can’t see much of his face, the whole “black cloak and black hood thing” matches his moody personality, which is attractive, (in some way that I can’t completely decipher).

It’s funny, Zuko’s the only person that I know who can look attractive while also looking scary.

We finally arrive to the market and I have Zuko to hold the baskets with fruits and vegetables for me while I go on throwing more at him. We don’t have much money to spent – _obviously_ – but doing things just a normal as grocery shopping always gives me a break from the constant “fleeing a crime scene” that our lives are. In the Water Tribe, we almost never get vegetables, except from when some warriors go on expeditions to the outer world and bring food for the entire village at their return; so being in the middle of such a vast selection of food makes me a little giddy, like I want to purchase all of it but at the same time I don’t think I could ever eat so much. I had never prepared a vegetarian meal until I met Aang. I had never fought a firebender, or met a prince until I met Zuko.

An explosion – a real, loud, shaking explosion – pushes me out of my thoughts. The entire market makes a little waving tremble.

“What was that?” Zuko’s alarmed voice rises from behind the mountain of food I piled in front of his face, and he stretches his neck to look – as I am doing – to the source of the noise. A group of firebender bandits just shot a couple of explosive blasts to one of the stands, sending the entire wooden stall flying a couple of feet in the air.

Chaos breaks free in all the block, people are running and screaming non-stop, ladies carry small children in their arms to take them away from the danger. The bandits – a group of rough looking men, probably around twenty or thirty years old (it’s hard to tell with their wrinkleless faces and the bruise-like marks under their eyes combined) – are taking advantage of the commotion to rip the food and the money out of the hands of the sellers.

They run away as quickly as if their own feet were on fire.

A lady screams next to us. “_Ah!_ Stop them!”

In a very reckless way, Zuko lets go of all the food I threw in his hands just a moment ago – pomegranate and berry juice spill all over the floor and wash a few loose leaves of smashed lettuce – and takes his own bending stance.

“Get back here!” He yells at the fugitives and shoots them a few balls of fire that hit dangerously close to their feet.

They throw him a thin, cutting current of fire, curved like a Dao blade, which he blocks easily with a movement of his bare arm. He grunts and runs after them.

“No!” I yell. “Wait for me!”

_Ugh! Why is it so difficult to run in sandals?! _If I had known we would get ourselves into this kind of persecutions, I would have stolen some closed shoes from that clothesline instead of these! Maybe I could follow Toph’s example for once and run around barefoot…

There is no “_maybe_”. I take off my sandals and run the rest of the way shoeless.

Zuko is fast – something that I’ve learned over the past several months of my life – and I’m sure the guys we are following are becoming acquaintance with that fact, because they make an escape way out of the most dug and unlikely places in this small city: street alleys that are so narrow that we barely get to past through them, crowded neighborhoods with _lots_ of passers that we have to push out of the way; (I have officially heard the biggest amount of groans and insults in just one day.)

We get to a low class neighborhood that’s fairly deserted, but I think it has the most resources for the idiots we are chasing to use against us.

“Take this, you vigilante-wannabe!”

One of the guys throws a fireball, but not at Zuko. Instead, to an improvised pulley system that is carrying a big box in the air. The rope holding it burns right when Zuko is passing underneath it.

“Zuko!”

I launch myself forward and push Zuko to another alley before the box can even get to touch him, the raspy texture of the wall we land against scratches my arm and the palm of my hands.

There’s a strident, disastrous crash and the sound of pieces of wood hitting against the ground and each other. We turn to stare at the pieces of the former box in the floor. 

“What was it that you were saying yesterday about things falling on top _you_ when _I_ was around?” Zuko says.

A new blast of fire hits next to our heads on the wall of the alley. It does not burn us – fortunately – but the loose sparks that it blows with the impact blind me for a brief moment.

“C’mon, super-duper _brats_,” one of the guys taunts us, shooting another flare. His voice is nasty. “Let’s keep playing.”

It’s interesting how a few seconds ago they were running away from us and now they want to downright fight us… I suppose we managed to irritate them enough.

Zuko clearly does _not_ appreciate being taunted; apparently these thieves managed to irritate him enough, as well.

With the speed only comparable to a lightning itself, he steps out and sends a potent attack at the guy who shot us. A thick, round cannon of yellow and red fire so strong and fast that the man barely has time to block it, covering his face with his arms. Zuko launches two more shots at his feet, making him stumble and fall backwards down a small set of stairs.

_One down, three to go. _

Zuko attacks the one holding the bag with the stolen money next, but one of the others tries to attack Zuko from a spot out of his line of sight.

I bend all of the water out of my vial – hidden by a small piece of fabric in the waist of my skirt – and make an ocean wave out of it, hitting the jerk with such force that his head hits against another wall, positively knocking him out.

_Two down, two to go. _

One of the two still on his feet mutters a curse that makes me want to bend all of my water to wash his mouth. “What’s a _waterbender_ doing in the Fire Nation?!”

He says that last part with such an elitist accent that I want to make myself some ice claws like Hama and nail them in his eyes. _So they aren’t only idiotic thieves; they are _racist_, idiotic thieves. _I shape my water into a long, octopus-like tentacle and whip him with it.

Zuko casts a long string of fire himself (it kind of resembles an actual leather whip burning itself) and whips at the guy’s feet for him to stumble back. But before he can hit again to throw him down, the other one shoots him another blow that Zuko barely – just _barely_ – has time to block. The idiot that attacked him does not give him a chance to response and throws small, but multiple blows of fire to Zuko.

Zuko manages to block them with some maneuvers of his hands and skip them by swiftly sliding out of the way, but “_Mr. McShotful_” is quick to cast more fire and quick to direct it at every spot that becomes unguarded with each of Zuko’s movements. Zuko barely has time to block all of his blows.

“Zuko!” I try to step into their fight.

Somebody grabs my arm tightly and the mere touch makes nausea to surge in my stomach. It’s the guy that we were attacking before. The one with the bag of money.

“Sorry, _sweetheart_,” he speaks dragging the words out like he was drunk. He smirks at me in a lazy, dirty-minded way that increases my nausea. And my anger. “Your boyfriend can’t come to your rescue.”

I concentrate in the water particles flowing in the air – flowing around the tip of my fingers. I grow all five of them tiny, but sharp, nail-like ice spears.

I scratch the imbecile across the face and then I directly claw the ice in the skin of his arm. It feels good to hear the rather feminine (and hugely embarrassing, only for a man) scream that comes out of his throat. _I don’t need_ _a rescue_.

He lets go of my arm immediately – _geez, I wonder why_ – and I bend the water that I dropped when he gripped me into three different, wavy currents. I command one to surround his head and freeze it in the spot. Paralyzed by confusion, it’s easier to enclose his wrists and legs with the other two currents and turn them into ice cuffs. I kick away the bag of money that has fallen off from his hands and, since I’m not a complete heartless monster, I unfreeze the orb of ice around his head for him to breathe.

_Three down, one to go._

“Well, that was easy,” Zuko is stepping away from the guy who was shooting fire at him – who is now somehow lying on the floor unconscious, (_four down, apparently_) – rubbing his hands as if to shake the dust out of them. His hood is off, he hasn’t even break a sweat.

“Have you lost your mind?!” I – angrily – reach for my sandals, (that I let go a while ago to fight these bunch of losers.) “What were you even thinking? Running after some stupid jerks.”

“Hey, here,” the _stupid jerk_ that I cuffed calls out from the ground.

“Shut up!” Zuko and I yell in unison. And I glare at Zuko for it because, right now, I don’t want us to do _anything _in unison.

“We should get something to restrain them that doesn’t look made by a waterbender,” Zuko points out. Annoyingly calm, by the way.

I glare harder at him. “Yeah, we should.”

I made a big spectacle out of walking back with furious stomps of my feet towards the shattered box we left behind. A big piece of the rope that was holding it fell down as well. A big enough piece of rope to tie down four mediocre thieves.

I take it.

I feel grateful that I don’t have to explain to Zuko what we are going do with the rope. He drags the bodies of the three knocked out guys close and the cuffed guy to me and places them in a way I can tie them all up together.

“Don’t think you’re getting away with this, sweetheart,” suddenly I would have preferred to knock out the guy that I cuffed with a heavy piece of ice, “When the guards get us, we are telling them you’re a waterbender. They will roast you alive, not even your boyfriend will save you then, and they will let us go with a reward.”

I’m about to tell him to shut his mouth before I shut it for him, permanently; but Zuko pushes me behind his back in a protective way that makes me want to _strangle_ him in the spot. _I don’t _need_ protection!_

He faces the guy looking down at him, looming over him. “When the guards get here,” he says in a low, impersonal, _cold_ voice, “the first thing they are going to notice is that you’re a drunk, stealing commoner with no money and no important connections that nobody will care if they throw to rot in a cell.” The guy’s face falls. “I don’t think I have to remind you about how the Fire Nation’s government works, and that they are not known for their ‘fair treatment’ towards the ‘lower classes’,” he almost spits the words out, “This is how things work, either you are important, or you are not, and we all know that you are not; whatever you say, it will mean _nothing_. Just like you _are_ nothing.”

Zuko backs off.

The guy is visibly shaking right now, his eyes are wet with absolute, raw terror. (How stupid, that a 16-year-old can intimidate an adult man so easily.)

I, on my part, am feeling shivery, with a heavy but hollow void in my stomach, and my heart thundering inside my chest. My lips remain zipped for a couple of seconds.

“We better gag them,” I breathe out finally, “Just for them to stay quiet.”

“Yes,” Zuko’s voice sounds absent.

I take four kitchen napkins from a small clothesline near us and cover the idiots’ mouths with them, tying them firmly behind their heads so the only thing they will mutter are unintelligible, muffled sounds.

“Okay,” I step back, sort of admiring my work, “Now,” I turn to Zuko, “_Have you lost your mind?!_”

He frowns at me. “Seriously? You’re still going on with _that_?”

“_Of course_ I’m still going on with that,” I retort, “We are keeping a low profile, remember?”

“I have kept a low profile before,” he spats, almost disdainfully, “I never had to stand with my arms crossed in the middle of a robbery for doing so.”

“You didn’t have to stay with your arms crossed,” I return his almost disdainful tone, “But bending in the middle of crowded market is kind of notorious, don’t you think?”

“You would have done the same thing,” he whispers, much calmly.

“That’s different!” I yell.

“How so?”

“Because that’s _me_,” I say, “Because that’s what I _do_. And I don’t care about what happens as long as it’s just _me_ the one that’s doing it. As long as I’m the responsible one, the only one in danger of getting caught – or _worse_ – not my friends. I take care of people, everything and everyone. All the time. That’s who I _am_.”

“Well, this,” Zuko gestures to the place around us – the entire neighborhood, the poor kept houses in it, the tied and gagged thieves, the burning spots in the walls, the pieces of several gardening pots that broke during the confrontation, “is who _I_ am, Katara. I don’t stand back; I fight, I chase, I do whatever I have to do – whatever _needs_ to be done. By anyone, at any time. And I don’t care about what happens to me, either. I don’t have _time_ for caring about myself when there are things that need to be fixed, and I am there to fix them when nobody else will.”

We both stare at each other, breathing heavily out of rage and screams.

I don’t know if it is rage this that I am feeling, though. All I know is that my palms are sweating, I feel hot and cold on the inside.

“There they are, guards!” Someone shouts from behind my back.

I stop feeling. At all. I freeze. I would think I just fainted if it wasn’t because my eyes are open. I can’t see, either. There’s something squeezing my hand.

_Zuko_.

He grabbed my hand the moment we heard the shout – (a reflex, more than anything) – and he now pulls me to hide behind his back. I follow like a raggedy doll.

I didn’t notice at what time he put his hood back on, but it’s over his head now and I grasp a fistful of the fabric of his cape until I go white-knuckled.

“These are them, guards,” is the seller of the exploded stall in the market, “These are the hooligans that assaulted us earlier,” he points to the tied men in the floor.

“And this is the young man who went after them.” A woman, younger than the elderly seller but with abundant gray and white hair, smiles warmly at Zuko with an excited glint on her eyes.

“It looks like he did much more than that.” The seller – the husband of the woman, maybe? – smiles appreciatively and proudly at Zuko.

They come with a group of Fire Nation guards who all give an unimpressed, bored glance at Zuko and then at the thieves. “Not bad, kid,” one of them says, not even looking at us anymore, “but next time leave it to the pros, would you?”

In a quite informal, unofficial way, they drag the thieves out of the street, leaving the rest of us behind, not even returning the stolen money to the merchant couple, or asking Zuko and me what happened, or looking for proofs that it wasn’t – in fact – us the ones that were into some funny business. What a defective system!

“That was rude.” Surprisingly it is the elderly man who speaks again, frowning at the leaving guards. “Anyways, thanks for capturing those savages, son. Do you know where they took the money of our stall?”

“Oh, yes!” I say. I step away from Zuko and take the bag of money from the floor. “Here.” I hang it over to the man.

His face lights up when he sees it. “Oh, my! Thanks, young lady!”

He does not even finish to thank me properly before going on as to open the bag and count everything that’s inside. I don’t blame him for it.

“And especial thanks to you, young hero.” His wife is still awed by Zuko, talking to him in a kind, soft-spoken way. She has that kind of grandmother-like smile on her face; I can see the curve of a small, flattered smile under Zuko’s hood, as well. “But next time try not to jump head to the danger so fiercely, would you? I’m sure your beautiful girlfriend here wouldn’t appreciate it. Didn’t you hear how worried she was about you?”

_Girlfriend? Wait… Is she talking about _me_?!_

Zuko and I start speaking in unison in a creepily harmonic way, even with our high-pitched tones, “What? No, no!” We exchange looks. “He’s” – (“she’s”) – “just a friend.”

The lady smiles as if she understands, but also as if she knows better than that. Old ladies _always_ know better than that. But this is the exception! There’s nothing to _know_ here.

“Well, you two friends today helped my husband and me with something very, very important,” she says, “And we both would like to do something for you in retribution. Why don’t go back to one of our stalls in the market and pick up some fresh veggies and fruits? Our treat!”

I feel my eyes widening. My voice comes out as a thin, disbelieving whisper. “We… we can’t accept it.”

The woman shakes a dismissive hand. “Nonsense! You today gave us a bag of money that covers for twenty different clients, we feel obliged to thank you for it. Right, sweetie?” She turns to her husband.

_Sweetie_. That’s a nice way to call a beloved one.

“Absolutely,” the man lifts his head to look at us with a smile on his face now that he counted all the money in the bag. “You gave us something, and now we must give you something as a grateful reward. It's a matter of honor, and we are not taking _no_ for an answer.”

I exchange another look with Zuko – he has to fully turn his head for me to look at his eyes – and gives me a light shrug, telling me that it is my decision.

“Well…” I drag the word out for complete two seconds. “If you insist…”

“We do.” The woman takes my hands in hers, her skin is just as warm as her smile. “Come on, you two must be hungry after such a long persecution.”

She pulls at my hands for me to follow her. I do.

***

After several minutes, we get back to the market. The commotion from this morning has died down, you would think the place has been this much uneventful all day. If you ignore the entire stall lying horizontally on the floor and the few pieces of scorched wood spilled around it.

The elderly couple leads Zuko and me to another kiosk, one a little more separated from the center of the marketplace where there are the most clients, the products in stock look fresh out of the orchard. They make good on their promise of letting us choose anything we want for free, (which is still unbelievable and a little overwhelming, like this morning when I was thinking about how I could never eat so much food.) Zuko and I don’t abuse, though, we only take a little more than the necessary.

We don’t want to pass as the starved kids that we, indeed, are; but we also don’t know when we will have another chance like this one.

I know I appreciate this chance enough to pick up some fairly big, juicy watermelons!

When we are done, we say goodbye to the elderly couple – who actually insisted for us to take more than what we had already – and we head back to the house. We try to not make it look like we are running away from the place, but I can’t tell how successful we are at that. (It just have been a _too_ eventful day!)

“You think we should tell the others how we got so much food?” Zuko asks, carrying much more baskets than this morning.

“I don’t know,” I mutter, “They will find it odd that we got so many food with so little money…”

_Will they? I am the one who’s mostly in charge of the money and it’s not like we go around buying a lot of stuff._

“Well, at least they’ll be happy we won’t be starving for the next couple of weeks,” Zuko points out. I feel a little guilty for having him carrying so much things while I only carry a basket of tea leaves.

“Yes, that man and his wife really let us go with a lot of stuff,” I say.

“Mm-hmmm,” Zuko hums, struggling to keep everything in his arms from falling down. 

“You think they would have done the same thing if they knew I am a waterbender?”

I feel Zuko’s shocked gaze on me, but I don’t turn to look at him. My head hangs excessively down, I stare at my own feet as I put one in front of the other.

“I…”

I don’t let him finish. “There was this one time when I tried to help a Fire Nation village,” I explain, “I posed as an ancient water spirit that used to live in their river, but there was a factory that polluted it so the spirit disappeared for a long while. The pollution made lots of people to become sick and they almost couldn’t fish in the river to get food so they were also starving. I went and healed the sick and gave them food. When they found out I was a waterbender, they tried to attack me.”

I listen to Zuko’s silence.

“I mean, I know that I shouldn’t have pretended to be somebody that I wasn’t – even less if it was a spirit that the whole village held so dear – but you should have heard how they called me a waterbender. It felt like _that_ was even more unforgivable.”

We pass a few beats in silence. Me, trying – and failing – to not recall the angry, spiteful eyes of Dock and the others.

“The Fire Nation has grown some flaws over the past hundred years,” Zuko says, his tone feathery, “Like the corruption I was talking about to that guy, or the bigot loathing we have developed for the other nations in the world. They have darkened the Fire Nation as well, and the hearts of their people. The reason why I joined you guys is because I want a future where all the world heals. Where the Fire Nation doesn’t hate anymore and the other nations don’t fear us. I want to help to achieve that future, I want to create that future.”

_There are things that need to be fixed, and I am there to fix them when nobody else will._

I smile. “I know you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really tried to evoke the characters' personalities in here in their discussion, showing what kind of person they are to each other. Also, I wrote this chapter because I felt that the villagers from "The Painted Lady" were quite racist towards Katara when they found out she was a waterbender. Even the compliment Dock gave her afterwards, "you're not so bad for being a waterbender", you mean the rest of the waterbenders do are bad or what? I get that the Fire Nation is an overall racist country but overall racism is wrong and I don't think the show portrayed it correctly.
> 
> Author's note: the people that stared at Zuko and Katara on their way to the market also thought they were a couple and they were wondering how such a pretty girl like Katara could be with a boy that looked so broody XD


	10. I don't do jealousy

**Katara**

Coming to watch a play about us didn’t sound like the best idea in the world.

At the same time, it didn’t sound like the _worst_ one. (Sokka is right about something, we have been too secluded lately.) (We need to go out for keeping ourselves from falling into madness.)

(Besides, I can’t help but feel excited about seeing an actress interpreting _me_ on a theater!)

There’s a huge crowd gathered outside the Ember Island Theater, it hasn’t open the doors yet, some people are still in the line to get tickets and some others are waiting with their tickets in hand for the play to start. We arrive fairly early, it’s the only way to make sure we can buy our own tickets before they all sell out. Sokka and Suki are in the line for it while Aang, Zuko, Toph and I wait directly outside the doors of the building so we can find good seats when we get in.

“Sugar Queen, you wait here with Sparky while Twinkletoes and I go to the line in the snack stand. It’s not a night at the theater if you don’t have snacks,” Toph grabs Aang by the arm and drags him away for both of them to disappear into the crowd.

“I told you to stop calling me ‘Sparky’!” Zuko yells after her.

“I don’t think she heard you,” I tell him. _None of the times_.

Zuko groans but, for the rest, it looks like he’s willing to let it go for the night.

I take an appreciative glance at the theater. The building is magnificent! Most of the buildings here in the Fire Nation are magnificent, I have noticed. (It makes sense considering it is the nation with more gains and less losses during the war.) It is painted in the representative red and golden colors of the country, that I have noticed I’m starting to take the likes towards. (I don’t know how to feel about that specific detail just yet.) And it’s strategically located at the top of a high hill, with a direct view to the vast ocean next to it, something that makes it even _more_ beautiful. (At least to me, personally.)

Though, I don’t know if it’s the altitude the one responsible for tonight’s cold weather. _Prrrrr! I’m freezing!_

“You are cold?” Zuko asks me.

I would try to deny it – just for the sake of reassuring someone – but I’m pretty visibly rubbing my arms and trembling, so…

“Yeah, a little,” I say.

“Here. Have this.” In a swift move, Zuko removes his cape and slips it over my shoulders. His fingers begin tying a loose knot around my neck for holding it there.

My stomach does some of Ty Lee’s weird flips and all the blood inside my body climbs up to my cheeks. _I had never been on the receiving end of such a gallant gesture from a boy… _

But I probably shouldn’t make much of it. (Knowing Zuko, he most likely doesn’t realizes what he’s doing.)

I try to keep my voice from shaking when I say: “Shouldn’t you keep your hood on?”

“Relax,” his warm fingers keep working on the knot around my neck, I can feel them moving. “You’d be surprise by how few people recognize me outside the capital. There you go.”

He steps back, admiring his own work. I accommodate the cape on my shoulders. It is warm. _Zuko_ kind of warm.

“You don’t go out much?” I smile timidly, feeling self-conscious – something very _unlike _me. 

Zuko looks away, in that I’m-so-cool-in-an-aloof-way of his. “I prefer being inside.”

I laugh. _Yeah, right. _ “Please don’t tell me that you are _unpopular_.”

A light blush tints Zuko’s cheeks, just the slightest brush of pinkish red under his fair skin. “I… I’m not unpopular! I… I _decided_ not to have a social life.”

I think he realizes a little too late how _that _sounded.

Meanwhile, I make the titanic effort of keeping my lips sealed to not cackle out loud. I come up with a new mantra: _Don’t laugh now. Don’t laugh now!_

Zuko looks at me like he knows exactly what I am thinking, “Shut up.”

I – unsuccessfully – hide the tiny smile on my face with the tip of my fingers. “Well,” I say, “you _are_ hanging out with the rebel kids now. That gives you some points.”

The corner of Zuko’s mouth twitches upwards. He isn’t looking at me directly, but there’s an amused and pleased glint on his eyes that makes me smile wider. “Great. I appreciate that.”

Something catches the corner of my eye.

My gaze drifts towards a group of Fire Nation girls around our age looking directly at Zuko. All of them equally pretty between each other, and all of them wearing elegant dresses that seem specifically designed for a night at the theater and that make my robe look like not good enough of an outfit. True enough, there’s not even the slightest trace of recognition in their eyes. Only appreciation. And girly naughtiness.

I frown.

“Something wrong?” Zuko’s voice calls out my attention.

I blink and look up at him. He’s looking at me with his brows furrowed in curious concern.

“No,” I say, pulling out a smile just as wide as it is fake, “Why?”

“You looked mad all of the sudden.”

_I didn’t, _I think. _Did I?_

“It’s nothing,” I mutter, forcing those girls and this mysterious uneasiness that I’m feeling out of my head, “I’m just impatient for the play to start. It feels like we have been waiting out here for hours.”

“Oh, that.” _Bless Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation’s obliviousness! _“It has always been this way. This place has such a slow administration; back when I was a kid, they couldn’t fasten up not even with the _Fire Lady_ waiting with her children outside the doors.”

_That’s right, Zuko used to come here with his mother._

“Your came here very often?”

He nods. “Nearly all weekends while we spent the summer.”

“Your mother liked theater a lot?”

Zuko’s entire face changes as soon as the question leaves my lips. His eyes are sparkling like an invoked blaze of fire, it makes their golden color to appear more vivid but not metallic. Golden like fireflies. Golden like the sun. A bright smile, similar to the one of a child with a huge present in his hands, spreads across his face.

“Oh, yeah!” His words are excited as his face, it’s the first time I see him so immerse in a conversation. “I think she wanted to be an actress herself. She knew the entire script of ‘Love amongst the Dragons’ by heart. She memorized _all_ the characters! But her favorite was the protagonist, the Dragon Empress. You should have seen her, she was amazing reciting the lines! And she always cried when the Dragon Emperor and Empress ended up together at the end, she used to say that the play taught us that true love can overcome anything.”

Zuko finally has to stop for air after such an enthusiastic row of words. Even while his breathing comes out so forcefully, the smile does not leaves his lips, his eyes are soft, open and vulnerable; still sparkling, like they are an opened window revealing a fire that only exists within him.

I feel something ardent inside my chest. Like somebody stole the sun from the sky and locked it inside my heart.

Someone crashes against Zuko’s side.

He, all solid muscle that he is, is not fazed by the hit; but whoever fell against him is in serious danger of falling _all _on top of him without something to hold on to.

Zuko turns around and holds the person by the arms. It’s a girl, from the group that I saw earlier. A tall one with light brown hair styled back in a high ponytail with a Fire Nation headpiece and a garnet red dress with a matching translucent pashmina. Zuko helps her steady herself and she, for extra balance, grips his forearms.

“Oh, so sorry!” She apologizes immediately after she regains her ground, her voice is classically feminine. All of her is classical and clichéd, from her commonly pretty features to her excessive use of makeup. “I think somebody pushed me. I’m so very sorry,…”

She trails off, motioning and looking questioningly at Zuko, clearly awaiting for him to give her his name.

“Lee.”

_Lee?_

“Lee!” The girl sounds way too thrilled from getting a single name. “What an interesting name!”

Okay, this officially has become sickening.

“I’m Disa,” she points in an ostentatious and slightly smug fashion towards herself. “Nice to meet you, Lee; thanks for helping me. It was _so_ nice from you.” She bats her lashes at Zuko.

_Oh, please. _I roll my eyes.

“Thanks. And you’re welcome,” Zuko replies in a friendly, casual manner. _Forget what I said about his obliviousness!_

Zuko lets go of the girl’s (Disa’s) arms – something that _noticeably_ upsets her – but she’s quick to hide it with a flashy smile that reminds me more of a razor blade rather than a friendly gesture.

“See, my friends and I,” she gestures to the group in which I saw her earlier, all of them who are also smiling flirtatiously at Zuko, “have been observing you for a while and we were wondering, would you like to come seat with us at the play?”

_Excuse me?! _

“We have passes for the exclusive seats inside the theater,” Disa continues. I see myself slapping that patronizing smile out of her face. “We are going to sit with all the _most_ important people in the Fire Nation. It turns out we have an extra ticket, would you like to come seat with us, Lee?”

_Hello?! Here?! _

Can’t she see me? Can’t she see that Zuko is _obviously_ here with _me_? Is she blind? If she is, she evidently doesn’t have Toph’s sensing abilities. _Oh, the poor thing!_

Zuko stammers the words out. “I – um – ”

“Please, consider it as a ‘thank you’ gift from my part.” Disa is persistent, I’ll give her that much. “Besides, it would be an honor for us to watch the play with such a handsome boy.”

She entangles her arm with Zuko’s in an overly confident, overly _wrong_ way. I can see her unhealthily skinny hand with her claw-like, hideously painted nails settling over his bicep and giving it a soft stroke, and that’s _it_! Time to step in.

I entangle my own arm with Zuko’s other free one, a little tightly to get a good grip of him; I place my other hand on his bicep, much more confidently and proprietarily, and gently tug him closer to my side and away from this Disa girl. (Finally.) He comes obediently enough.

“I’m sorry,” I say to Disa, sweetly as honey, “But I think my _boyfriend _and I would prefer to spend some time _alone_.”

She stares at me like I just shot a lightning at her. Bewildered and more than a little upset. I imagine this is the face she would make if told her that in reality we are Team Avatar and we haven’t only already killed the Firelord, but also her makeup artist.

“Your _boyfriend_?” She breathes the last word out.

“_Yes_,” I remark, “And, if you didn’t notice, we were having a conversation before you appeared. We would very much like to return to it so, if you could only go back to your friends…”

I throw the razor-blade-smile at her. (I don’t know how she can walk around with it! My entire jaw hurts!)

Her eyes big, Disa swaps glances between Zuko and me. He remains quiet and immobile during the exchange. Not necessarily backing up my brilliant scam, but neither giving me away. Disa keeps looking at us skeptically, and I keep wondering,_ what, exactly, is she waiting for? _This isn’t a subtle hint! He. Is. With. _Me!_

“Well, I… ah…” _Finally_. “I think I’ll leave you two alone then.”

“Yes, do that.” I smile wider.

She shoots me another look – this one heavier than the previous – and then at Zuko, before excusing herself. “Right… Ah… Thanks again, Lee. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too!” I say brightly after her as she turns around to exit.

(Don’t take this the wrong way, I _know_ she wasn’t talking to me.)

(I just thought she had already talked to Zuko much more than what she should have gotten to.)

Zuko and I, both, watch her walk back to her friends with her head high, her hips moving graciously and her steps firm. (So… _dignifying_.) When she gets to them, they exchange a few words before leaving for another spot outside the theater. I hold Disa’s stare and the ones of some of the others as they walk by.

Zuko clears his throat. “Well… that was… um…”

“The reason for the bad reputation of teenage girls?” I offer.

“I don’t think _they_ are the reason for that, specifically.”

“If they contribute to further damage said reputation, then they are.”

“Right.” Zuko sounds like he could either laugh or cough. “What… What was that with the boyfriend thing?”

“They wouldn’t let you go if I didn’t say it.”

“How do you know?”

“Geez, I don’t know, Zuko. Because I’m a _girl_?”

He could use some feminine hindsight if he needs to be rescued from a group of blood-thirsty tiger-hyenas with too much lipstick. Just saying.

“Right. Figures. Sorry.”

I hum, reluctantly.

We spend a few minutes in silence, not talking about those girls – or _anything_ in particular. The tension between us is unexpected and charged, like a silent scream. _Plenty_ of screams. It feels as if there are words, dense and flimsy as smoke, floating between us; like we are sending them to each other. I don’t know what Zuko is trying to tell me, and I don’t know what I’m trying to tell him, but it seems like it is important. Vital, even.

I bite my lip. Suddenly I realize that I’m still on holding to Zuko’s arm, and let it go in a bit of a rush.

“I…,” Zuko breaks the silence, not looking at me. “Toph and Aang have been gone for a long while. I’m going to go see if they are okay.”

He walks away before I can answer, leaving me with my mouth only halfway open.

The uneasiness that I felt when I saw those girls earlier is nothing compared to what I feel watching Zuko stepping away, hiding himself from me inside the crowd. Everything inside me feels hollow – endlessly hollow. Icy cold. Missing, sad.

I embrace myself and lean back against the wall of the building, staring at the floor for a couple of seconds.

“Hey there, beautiful,” there’s a deep voice talking excessively close to me, “Came here alone?”

I turn to find a boy looking _absorbedly_ at me, like he’s not far away from eating me whole right here and now. I cringe a little at the thought.

He’s older than me, but not too much, probably around Zuko’s age, though this boy is just slightly taller. The difference does not stop there, this boy has light olive skin, and much longer hair than Zuko. Loose but with a topknot above his head, a thick strand covers half of his right eye. Also, he’s more corpulent than Zuko; fit and with visible, big muscles, but Zuko’s are better-defined. He is… handsome, I suppose, but his cocky smile and flirtatious stare makes me want to run the hell out of here.

“Uh…” I try to decide if I want to talk to him _at all_. “I came with some friends.”

“Do your friends mind if I wait with you for a while?” He steps even closer to me, dangerously close to enter my personal space. His hand is next to my head against the wall to support his weigh.

_I’m sure they do, _I think._ And so do I. _

“I think my friends would prefer if I waited for them alone.”

“Then what kind of friends would they be?”

I frown.

He smiles at me. Repulsively arrogant. Like he believes I should be impressed by his mere presence or good-looks, which are losing their charm by second. At least, it looks that way to me.

“I’m Ruon-Jian,” he stretches his hand out.

I stare at it. It takes me a while, but I come to the conclusion that I can be decent enough of a person to shake it.

“Nice to meet you, Ruon-Jian,” I say, as impersonally as I can. (The texture of his hand is distasteful.)

“Aren’t you going to tell me your name?” He arches a swaggering eyebrow that I bet he thinks will make me melt right on the spot.

“I rather not.” And it’s not only because I don’t go around with fake names to give like Zuko, or Aang, or Sokka do; but also because this guy is not worth the effort of coming up with a new name.

“Beautiful and mysterious, just like I like them.” He smirks at me.

If I rolled my eyes now, I would roll them _so_ hard that I think I would hurt myself, so I settle for giving him an unimpressed look. _How did I _ever_ get trapped in a conversation with this guy?_

“So…” Ruon-Jian moves even closer. Officially _too_ close. His eyes are weirdly too narrow for the rest of his factions, they make his already creepy gaze even creepier. “If your friends make you wait for too long, would you like to come watch the play with me and _my_ friends?”

I’m about to say _no_ in a categorically enough way for him to get the message, when he moves _even_ closer, looming over me.

“We have seats in the exclusive section of the theater.” He takes a once over of _all_ of my body, stopping for an irrational amount of time at my exposed core. “Come with us, we’ll all have a good time.”

_Is it too risky to bend the entire ocean into a water vortex to suck this guy out of my sight?_ Yes, it is, so I guess I’ll conform myself with bending all the water out of his eyes for him to stop looking at me like I was a human-sized piece of beef!

I’m about to get a small amount of water out of my vial – (I’m not sure for doing what exactly, I just know I want this guy off of me _now_) – when, in matter of a blink, someone grabs my hand and yanks me away from Ruon-Jian for me to land against a solid, hot, _familiar_ chest.

Relief flourishes from within me when Zuko wraps his muscular, heavy arms around my waist. The tact of his skin against my own and the texture of his clothes are soothing; I close my eyes and rest my head against his heart. (It is beating fast.)

The Ruon-Jian guy growls. “You again?”

_Again? _

I lift my head to look at Zuko, his face is impassive. “Yes, me again. And you, again, stop talking to my _girlfriend_! Again.”

_Girlfriend? _I shiver.

“I didn’t hear her complaining,” Ruon-Jian retorts arrogantly.

“I was going to do _more_ than just complaining if you didn’t back off,” I say, and then, (first, for hurting his ego. Second, for proving a point. And third, out of impulse), I put my arms around Zuko’s neck. He tightens his arms around me in response.

“Ha! Lucky _you_ that I arrived then,” he tells Ruon-Jian, smirking proudly.

For the first time, the easy-going façade of this idiot with _zero_ personality falls. He frowns, directly at Zuko; his face is twisted in a resentful grimace of grudge.

“So you got yourself a new girlfriend after being dumped, huh?” Ruon-Jian ultimately goes back to his _macho _front. (Personal note: Sarcasm does not suits him _at all_). “That’s it, buddy. Move on and all that stuff.”

Zuko tenses. His face remains expressionless, but his features are now awfully tight, muscles ready to snap at any minute; I can distinctly see something shifting on his jaw, like a tic. _What are they talking about? _Being dumped? Did Zuko had a girlfriend before? And what does this other guy has to do with _any_ of it?!

Apparently, the _other guy_ takes notice of Zuko’s sudden “dark mood”, because he pushes forward on the subject.

“Don’t know what you’re doing with him, beautiful,” he tells me with a smirk, “His last girlfriend dumped him in the middle of a party full of people because of how much of a loser he was. Also, she totally wanted me, but that’s another story.”

Anger boils the blood in my veins. I don’t know what I’m the most angry about, the fact that this guy is blatantly mocking one of my friends or his petty, self-absorbed mouth. Possibly both. I attempt to let go of Zuko – still don’t know for doing what exactly, but _anything_ will be a good idea as long as it shuts this idiot up – but Zuko holds me tighter and stills me in place.

“Yeah, my last girlfriend did that,” Zuko holds Ruon-Jian’s gaze challengingly, almost deadly, but also controlled. “And now I have someone else, who you should be thanking right now, because for her I’m willing to keep a leveled head and not throw you to hit that dumb head of yours against the wall. Remember how _that_ went last time?”

Zuko smirks, and Ruon-Jian’s face falls. And then grimaces. And then frowns. All of that before he gets to blink again.

“I wasn’t ready that time!” _Looks like Zuko hit a nerve_. Ruon-Jian’s fists clench and unclench compulsively at his sides.

Zuko shrugs. “Nobody cares.”

Ruon-Jian looks like he could _cry_ right now. _What is it with boys always knowing what ego spot to hit in these things?_ We, girls, could spend _hours_ out here talking in malicious undertones waiting for the other to throw something that _really_ stung. And even then, we would receive it with hypocrite smiles on our faces! (Yeah, we are kind of cold in that sense.)

Zuko remains stoic. He is above feeling anything near cocky or full of himself; I know. (He is more relaxed now than what he was before, his features softened again and his jaw is not clenched anymore.) (It makes me feel like I can allow myself to relax as well.) Even despite his still blank expression, the corner of his lips is turned just slightly upwards – just _so_ slightly that I wouldn’t notice if I wasn’t _this_ close to him – a sense of triumph emanating from that simple gesture.

I smirk, too. (Whoa, I’m loving this!) (What is wrong with me?!)

We observe the Ruon-Jian guy figuring out what his next move should be. For moments, it looks like he’s going to make another one of his poor attempts of sarcasm (Sokka could teach him a lesson or two), then it looks like he’s going to pick up a fight, then he chickens out. Personally, I think he should walk away while he still has some dignity left.

He stares at Zuko and me for a long moment, at our arms around each other in a way that can only be described as jealous. I’ll make a bet that whatever grudge he held against him has only increased with this little confrontation of theirs. After what feels like an eternity since I met the guy, (something that has officially entered my lists of regrets), he chooses to leave.

“Whatever.” He turns, not without giving me a wink that revolves my stomach. “Come look for me when you get tired of him, beautiful.”

I’m about to tell him that people will start looking for his _grave_ if he calls me “beautiful” again but Zuko stops me, shaking his head in a “he’s-not-worth-the-time” way, and I agree with him at that but _still_.

“Do you know him from before?” I ask Zuko, arching a baffled eyebrow at the mere idea of him _ever_ meeting with that guy.

He rolls his eyes. “Something like that. I came to spend the weekend here with Azula, Mai and Ty Lee a few weeks ago; he and his dumb friend invited Mai and Ty Lee to a party and then Azula wanted for us to go too.”

“He doesn’t seem to know… I mean… who you _are_.”

“Told you that almost nobody recognizes me outside the capital. Besides, Azula didn’t tell them who we were because she suddenly wanted to see how people would treat her if they didn’t know she was the princess.” He smirks. “That didn’t turn out well.”

I _know_ I’m smiling. I’m smiling like I will be when we win the war. I know it is frivolous to compare _that_ to _this_, but I don’t care! I don’t care _at all_! _Azula_?! Being treated like she wasn’t the princess?! _Oh. My. Spirits!_ I would like to hear a complete play-by-play about what happened that night. Better if it has some major misfortunes involving Azula. (As the victim for once, not the victimizer.)

Though I guess that would be hurtful for Zuko, wouldn’t it?

I know he and his sister are not… _close_, but nobody deserves other people taking joy on their family’s misery. I won’t do that to Zuko.

“But what happened with that Ruon-Jian guy, anyways?” I inquire, remembering all that “rematch” thing they had going.

“He was flirting with my girlfriend,” Zuko says, “so I pushed him to crash against a jar.”

“You had a _girlfriend_?”

(Okay, I have to make a mental note to start moderating my voice so it doesn’t come out so skeptical whenever Zuko speaks.) 

“Is that so hard to believe?” I feel a little guilty upon seeing his poker-face.

“No, no, it’s just that…” _What, exactly, was it that I felt upon finding out that Zuko had a girlfriend?_ “You never mentioned it.”

He shrugs, resting importance to it. To all of it. (The omission that he had a girlfriend, the revelation that he had a girlfriend.) “It doesn’t really matter anymore. We broke up.”

“Oh…” _Oh…_ “I’m sorry. Did it happen back at that party?”

“No. Well… we _did_ break up at that party. Remember what I told you about me being a jerk when I got back here? I was angry about _everything_, I was out of control, and she dumped me because she got tired of it.”

_I see…_

“But then we got back together,” he continues. _Oh_. “And then I broke up with her when I left the Fire Nation.”

_Ouch! _Poor girl! I can’t imagine what it must have been to be dumped like that.

“I’m so sorry, Zuko. What was her name?”

“It was Mai.”

_Mai? Knife-throwing, crankiness, eternal pessimism _Mai_? _

Is that the kind of girl Zuko likes? I mean, she’s beautiful and all, and I guess she’s not as insufferable as Azula but… Mai, really?

Well… I already said she is beautiful… With that flawless fair skin and shiny, long jet-black hair, and… she’s also very smart… At least, she’s a great strategist in battle, and… that thing with the knives that she does is pretty cool, and… she’s older, and more mature and serious, and… _Yeah_.

“Oh… Uh…” _C’mon, Katara, think about something to say. Something _positive_! _“I’m sorry about it. For you and her. I’m sorry that you had to leave someone you cared for behind, and I’m sorry that she had to lose someone she cared for, too.”

Zuko shrugs, his face melancholic.

“Hey,” I put my hands on his shoulders and rub them comfortingly, “you’ll get the chance to see her again.”

“I saw her when we were at the Boiling Rock,” he says, “Her uncle was the warden and he let her confront me in private.”

Both of my eyebrows raise slightly, “What happened then?”

“She brought with her the letter that I left when I ran away,” Zuko isn’t looking me in the eye, hasn’t since we brought up the Mai subject, “and started reading it out loud in front of me.”

_Ouch! _Mai was in her own right, but _ouch!_

“She was upset, Zuko, I bet that she was really glad to see you again.”

“It didn’t look that way,” his ironic smile is _not_ comforting. “It certainly didn’t look that way when I locked her inside a cell.”

“You _what_?”

“It was for Sokka and me to get Suki and your dad out of the prison,” he’s quick to defend himself, and I’m _trying_ to keep my empathy for him at this, but it is hard when he tells me that he locked up poor, heart-broken Mai inside a _prison_ _cell_.

“Anyways…,” he continues, “She got out after a while. And when the guards tried to cut the line we were using to escape, she stopped them.” A pause. “She saved us.”

My stomach clenches without a reason, I feel like I’m getting sick.

At the same time, I feel relieved. Happy, even. (Azula was at the Boiling Rock, too; I remember Sokka telling me.) I am happy because someone loved Zuko enough to defy Azula herself.

He can inspire that kind of love, I know; but, most of the time, I can see he does not know it. I _want_ him to know it. I want him to _believe_ it.

“She cared about you.” I carefully place a hand to hold his cheek. His eyes close blissfully at the touch.

“I like to believe that,” he says, his eyes still closed.

“She did,” I emphasize, “I bet she forgave you already.”

“You think?” Zuko opens his eyes, looking at me through under his eyelashes. (This close, I can see that his left eye, indeed, has eyelashes.) (Thin, short, and widely separated from one another.)

“Yes,” I softly caress the side of his face and he closes his eyes again, “We always forgive the ones that we love.”

Zuko smiles like he’s in the middle of a pleasant dream.

And then we both tense.

Like, _really_ tense. (If someone touched us right now, we would both either snap like stretched strings or fall down in pieces like broken glass.) And I have a pretty good idea about why that is.

Zuko has his arms around my waist – his bare skin touching _my_ bare skin – holding my body against his own, there’s hardly any space left between our faces, and I have a hand on his shoulder while I caress his face... _This is bad!_

We let go of each other, not pushing, but forcefully enough for it to be even _more_ awkward we are apart than when we were entangled with each other. _This is bad! This is really, really bad!_

“I’m sorry!” Zuko’s apology is panicky, almost hysterical, “I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t… I didn’t… It was for making that guy believe you were my girlfriend and…” His hands fly to his head.

“It’s okay,” I try to reassure him. (That’s what I do, _reassuring_.) But it’s difficult when I can’t seem to pull out a smile that looks _normal_.

“I’m so sorry,” Zuko repeats as if he didn’t hear me. He most probably didn’t, actually. “And I’m sorry for calling you my girlfriend, I just… you did the same thing with those girls and I… I had to think fast! And…”

“It’s okay,” I say, I think I finally made out a smile. (I wouldn’t check it out with a mirror, though.) “You’re right, I did the same thing with those girls. And it was only for them to go away. Is not like we were really a couple or anything.”

“Yeah. Right. Is not like that.” Zuko finally lets his hands down.

“Because that would be crazy.”

He raises his hands in surrender. “Totally crazy.”

“The _craziest_…” I look away.

Gran-Gran would forgive me if I cursed at a moment like this, right? Right?! The situation seems like the appropriate one for it, Gran-Gran! I _pinky-swear_!

“You should put your cloak back on,” I untie the knot around my neck take the cape off from my shoulders. “If there are people here that might know you like that Ruon-Jian guy, then we have to avoid them from seeing you with the rest of us,” I say as I place the cape over Zuko’s shoulders, “It’s for not drawing the attention to our group.”

Zuko quickly accommodates the cape and ties it around his neck, I help him place the hood in a way that covers the most of his face as possible without it blocking his sight. “Yes. Sure.”

“All right, we have the tickets ready!”

I turn to look at Sokka walking towards us with a dumb, excited smile on his face. The tickets in his hand and his other hand holding Suki’s. Toph and Aang are not far behind them, though they aren’t carrying any snacks and Toph is visibly frowning.

“What happened to the snacks you were looking for?” I ask her once we are grouped together.

She growls. “Ugh! Don’t even mention it, would you? The prices here are a robbery!”

Robbery_. _Like the one Zuko and I stopped and then were mistaken for a couple_ – _I’m telling you Gran-Gran! The situation _requires_ cursing!

“You guys went for snacks?” Sokka asks us.

“I just said don’t mention it!” Toph complains.

“Why didn’t you bring any?”

“Didn’t you hear what I said about the prices?!”

“Oh, come on! It’s not like we have the chance for a night at the theater all that often, we could have paid for a bag of fire-gummies.”

“We can still go make the line at the stand,” Aang suggests.

“Not really,” Suki intervenes, “The Theater is opening already.”

We all follow her gaze to the huge, golden doors of the Ember Island Theater, being opened by some elder men. The wave of people around us rushes inside.

“Oh, man!” Sokka complains, “Now how are we gonna get snacks?”

“You can go look for some during the intermission,” Suki says, “Quick, let’s get in so we can find good seats.”

We all walk inside the Theater. I keep chanting inside my head: _This is going to be a normal night, this is going to be a normal night. _We are going to watch a play, we’ll relax a little, we’ll tune out from everything crazy going on in our lives for a while. Nothing extraordinary will happen tonight, I’ll get a rest from this confusing thoughts and feelings going on inside my head. I won’t have them for the night.

And I’m avoiding _anything_ remotely couple-ish during the rest of the night! More so if it has to do with me and Zuko, together! This thing with the two of us being mistaken for a couple has to _stop_!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *smirks* See what I did there?


	11. I promise you

**Katara**

I needed to take a walk on the beach. I needed to be near the water for a while.

Everybody else locked inside their rooms once that we came home from that… play. (I think we all had the same plan in mind: lying on our beds looking at the ceiling or pacing around our respective rooms, _alone_.) (It would give us time to think.)

I already lied on my bed and paced and I still couldn’t think properly, so I got dressed and went out to the beach. I would gladly give a walk through the whole island, see the ocean from all the angles, but I’m not crazy; the most reasonable thing to do is stay near the house.

For the first time in a long, long time, I feel a surge of rage over doing the reasonable thing to do. I want to see all of the ocean! I want to walk through the entire beach! Spirits, I want to dive into the depths of the sea and don’t come out until we win the war! We _are_ going to win the war! We are going to…

I take off my sandals and throw them to land somewhere on the sand. I walk to the shoreline and wet my feet with the waves arriving at it.

_Ah… Better._

I softly massage my temples with my fingers. I guess that play did put me a little over the edge. I tried to talk myself out of it since we left the Theater, but apparently I can’t rationalize _all_ the bad thoughts.

_Haha, turns out I’m only human!_

I’ve been feeling a little crazy since the whole thing started in the theater. It was like seeing my life from someone else’s eyes, like when someone asks you if you would be friends with yourself if you were another person. (I _certainly _wouldn’t be friends with that overacting actress!)

Even with the poor, unrealistic characterizations, that play remembered me of… well, _everything_.

I remembered who I was back when we first left the South Pole. Before I became too skinny due to poor nourishment, before I nearly died more times than I can count, before I lost more people that I loved. Then it remembered me the exact moment in which all of those things happened.

I feel I’ve been selfish for a long time; I almost never think about home. It seems like there are always so much things taking over our lives, creeping into my thoughts and making me worry about hundreds of new things each day that I have no time to think about the day before. That’s not excuse, I know, but sometimes it becomes way too much.

I stare at and listen to the waves crashing rhythmically.

_Ember Island_.

_The Fire Nation_.

I never thought I would put a foot anywhere near here. To be honest, I never thought I would put a foot _anywhere_ outside the Water Tribe. All my life seemed so prepared for me: I would grow in the Tribe without anything too eventful ever happening to me – except if the Fire Nation attacked again – I would marry some boy, have a family, teach my grandkids to call me Gran-Gran… All of that sounds pretty great, but that life was also one where I never saw the outside world by myself, where I never became a master waterbender.

With a fluent move of my hand, I invoke an orb of water to raise from the waves and bring it to float above my palm. It’s flawlessly round and imperturbable, it looks like a bubble filled with light air instead of heavy water; it reflects the moonlight like a prism. The day Sokka and I found Aang, I couldn’t do this. I could only raise balls of water that were disastrously undulating and unstable.

I return the orb to the same spot from where I lifted it.

How is everybody back at home? I never had time to make much friends but it always felt as if all the Tribe was a huge family, and I was a part of it.

How is Gran-Gran? Is she sad that Sokka and I have been away for so long? I miss her so much, sometimes I wish she had come with us since the very beginning. What would she say if she saw me right now? Here in the Fire Nation, awaiting to fight the Firelord. I imagine she would feel like me when we first settled in the country, a little angry at the people in it but excited to be in a new place. She would fear for us when we fight against the Firelord. She would disapprove and frown at my… _revealing_ Fire Nation attire. I giggle; I wish she was here with me. I _need_ her here with me.

Sometimes I can’t pretend that I’m okay with everything that’s going on or that I have all the answers that I need. Sometimes I need Gran-Gran to share her own wisdom with me.

I step away from the water and go look for my sandals. _Where did I leave them again?_ – Oh, right! There they are!

I pick them up and shake the sand out of them, noticing something tangled in one of their straps. It’s a piece of a painting, probably one part of a much bigger picture, but its borders are burned.

The darkened marks only let me see the center of the image, it’s the face of a woman. A young, very beautiful one, with dark hair and a serene smile on her face. There’s something strangely – even _creepily_ – familiar about her… but I can’t seem to figure out what. I feel like I have seen her before, but at the same time I don’t _think_ I have.

_Mmmmm…_

**Zuko**

I can’t sleep tonight.

It’s not unusual for me to not be able to sleep, but I have the feeling that tonight is because of a more specific reason. _Various_ reasons. But namely: I don’t want to have nightmares about me being burned alive while a whole audience applauds to it! I _told _the others we shouldn’t have gone to watch that play!

I have spent the past hour trying to push the memory of that theatrical catastrophe out of my head unsuccessfully. _Ugh!_ _I need some fresh air!_

I get dressed and head out to the beach.

It’s difficult to walk through the main hall, it remembers me of that time a few weeks ago when I took and burned that painting of my family. I don’t think I feel guilty about it – it’s not like the remaining members of my family would care – but what does it say about me as a person that I can burn down a picture of my family without remorse?

Walking down the hill also brings memories. Contradicting ones. I remember when I came here during that weekend: depressed, _angry_, and wondering how my family could become so different from what it was. I also remember when I went to get a walk here with Katara. _That_ is something more pleasant to remember.

It was the first time in a long time that we talked without her being annoyed by the sound of my _breathing_, and it was nice to spend some time with her – It’s _always_ nice to spend time with her; she’s amazing to talk to.

And she’s also smart, and funny, and understanding, and kind, and sweet, and she gives amazing advice; no wonders how she has kept the group on their feet all of this time.

And no wonders why Aang has such an obvious crush on her…

_Yeah_…

I reach the end of the hill and see Katara herself sitting on the sand near the shore. A relieved smile forms on my face; I didn’t realize I was looking forward to see her until now. I walk toward her and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey!”

Next thing I know, I get splashed by an insanely big and fast tentacle of salty water. Which tastes _awful_, by the way. “I thought we were past _this_!”

***

“Zuko! Oh, my!” Katara gets to her feet, startled. With some graceful moves of her arms, she bends the “extra water” off of my body. (It kind of feels like someone yanking you with a rope.) “Don’t you know you can’t walk in to a waterbender when she’s near the _water_?”

She quickly brushes my hair with her fingers and concernedly searches for any other harms or wounds.

I shrug. “Didn’t get the memo.”

Her eyes narrow, but the corner of her mouth curves upwards. “What are you doing up so late?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” I say with another shrug, “I don’t want to see that play in my nightmares.”

“Oh, right. I should have guessed it was that.”

“What are _you_ doing up so late?”

“I couldn’t sleep, either. I needed some fresh air to get that play out of my head.” She sits back down on the sand.

“Same thought,” I sit next to her. 

“Hey, look at this that I found.” She approaches me a little piece of paper she’s holding between her fingers. It’s a piece of a portrait.

My eyes widen. “Where did you get that?”

“It tangled itself in the strap of my sandal.” She stares at the image curiously. “Doesn’t she look kind of familiar to you? There’s just something...”

“That’s my mom.”

Her head jolts up to me, her eyes big.

Then it darts back at the painting, looking at it like she just made a huge discovery. “I _knew_ she looked familiar!” she exclaims, almost triumphantly. “But why is the picture burned?”

“Long story.”

Katara stares thoughtfully at my mom’s portrait. “You look a lot like her.”

“You think?” I inquire. “People always says I resemble my father the most.”

Her blue eyes study me for a moment – roaming over my face as her lips purse to one corner of her face – before briefly returning to my mom’s.

“I don’t think so. Your features are softer.”

Her fingers delicately reach to touch my cheekbone, just the gentlest caress of her fingertips over my skin.

“I mean,” she continues, “I’ve never seen Firelord Ozai in person – something for which I’m grateful for – but I’ve seen pictures and statues of him. You do look a little like him, mostly around the eyes, but yours are kinder. More benevolent.” Her fingers move a little, slowly tracing the line of my cheekbone beneath my eye.

I… can’t… _breath_.

_Benevolent_. No one had ever called me that before. My mother and uncle used to say I was kind, yes, but benevolent sounds like something more, something that you used to describe a person you admire.

A leader. A good leader. Somebody you put your faith on to achieve things.

“I… Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

And, just like that, my stupid answer ruined whatever it was that was going on between us.

Katara removes her hand from my cheek, and I contemplate physically face-palming myself right here and now as a statement of my own idiocy. 

“What happened to the rest of this picture?” she asks, still looking at the portrait, unaware of my internal beating up.

“It was a portrait of my whole family,” I say, my voice gloomy, “It got burned.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“I’m the one that burned it.”

I don’t see Katara looking at me, but I can feel it. Her eyes stare holes into my profile. It’s so intense it’s hard not to flinch at it.

Or it would be, if I wasn’t feeling so numb and remorseful all of a sudden.

(I have no idea from where this confession about burning my family’s portrait came from, but remembering my mom was in it, seeing her burned picture… Now I _do_ feel guilty.)

“Why?” Katara’s voice breaks through the melancholy within me. She doesn’t sounds surprised, or angry, or perplexed, or anything any other person would be upon a revelation like this; it almost sounds like she understood even before I say it.

My shoulders lift and fall, my voice is plain and heavy: “I was angry.”

And I’m angry that I was angry. Angry and confused for so long, causing so much harm, pushing people away, destroying what I once held dear… My hands fly to cover my face, but I can’t hide from this in such a small darkness. Darn, I’m also angry that I want to hide! _Angry! _Why am _I_ the one that always has to be so _angry_?!

Katara’s hands are soft. They take my own and gently pull them down. 

“Who were you angry at?” she says. (It’s nice that she doesn’t simply starts shooting me people she thinks I could be angry with.) 

“I was angry with myself,” I answer, “because I didn’t know what was right and what was wrong. Because I had everything I always wanted and didn’t enjoy it. I was acting like a madman because I couldn’t find an answer.”

“But you _did _find your answer, Zuko,” she remarks, “You’re with us now.”

“Yes, but at the moment I didn’t know, and I did stupid things like burning a picture of my mother out of selfishness.”

“Stop it. You’re not selfish.” Her thumps stroke my palms.

I’m tempted to tell her that I do am, that that’s the reason why we met in the first place.

I was chasing Aang for selfish reasons, because I planned to use him to get something that I wanted. I was always thinking only about myself, and possibly that’s why we are all now in the middle of this mess of a war.

“Whatever,” I say instead.

I pull away from her hands. I don’t want her touch me, I don’t deserve it.

I think I made us return back in time to when our friendship mainly consisted in tentative, awkward silences; one stretches uncomfortably between us. I can tell Katara wants to say something – something to make me feel better – I can see for the way she looks around nervously and worries her lip, but apparently she can’t come out with anything.

I don’t blame her. It’s already hard to have a normal conversation with _me_, it’s even harder to come up with something to say when I get all of these… “_me_-stuff”.

“I found out my mother is alive, you know,” I murmur, unsure why am I even talking about that now.

But I think Katara will understand it. She always understands.

“That’s wonderful, Zuko.” She sounds happy. And sad, at the same time. Like she knows there’s something dark behind the way I found out. (Is my life that much predictable?)

“My father was the one that told me,” I tell her, a little distantly, a little sinisterly. “The day of the eclipse, I went to confront him to tell him what I really thought about him and that I was leaving to join you. After I was done, I tried to leave while the eclipse was still on, but he told me that if I stayed until it was over and firebending was back then he would tell me what really happened to her.”

Katara inhales audibly, but says nothing. I don’t blame her for suspecting, either. Everything related to my father is worthy of suspicions.

“It was a trap, I knew that,” I clarify, “but I stayed anyways. He told me that after Uncle renounced to his birthright, he tried to persuade my grandfather, Firelord Azulon, to let him become the next one in the line to the throne. Azulon became enraged at it and said that, for Ozai to learn the pain of losing his firstborn, he commanded him to slay me.”

I don’t turn to look at Katara, but I can _feel_ the deep-set terror and repulsion coming from her in waves.

“My mother found out and made a deal with my father for him to become the next Firelord as he wanted so he would spare me. Ozai didn’t tell me exactly what she did, but the next morning my grandfather was found dead, so it doesn’t takes a genius to figure out what it was.” The unfeelingness of my own voice makes me shiver. “He banished her accusing her of treachery and she left the palace that night. I think she was already on the run when she came to see me.”

We stay silent for a long while, the only sound around us are the waves crashing in the beach. “And then Ozai tried to kill me with a lightning because I followed into his trap like a lamb.”

Suddenly the night feels much colder. _Too_ cold.

“I knew Azulon had told Ozai to kill me,” I continue, “Azula spied on them that night when the two of us were little, and then she went to my room to taunt me about it. I didn’t know it was the reason why my mother left, though.”

Katara remains silent. Close, but silent. Just a steady presence accompanying, but not interrupting, the picture of grimness into which I’ve stepped.

I laugh, so dryly and hard it sounds more like an exhalation. “Ha! Did I ever told you about that time when I was three and I almost drowned here?”

“You almost drowned?”

I nod slowly. “I got carried away by a wave into the ocean. My father saved me.”

Her perplexed silence is louder than a scream.

“I don’t understand it, either,” I say, “I think he _tried_ to be a normal father for some time. But he eventually gave up. _Obviously_.”

“Zuko…”

“Sometimes I think it would have been better if he had let me drown.”

“_What?_”

“Yes. I mean, it would have saved us all the trouble of – ”

“_No!_ Zuko, look at me!” Before I can react, Katara’s hands hold my face. They feel delicate on either side of my sharp jaw, they pull me to turn to one side and look at her eyes.

She looks like she’s shaking. Out of fear or anger, I can’t tell. She looks like she’s _actually_ angry, but also sad, but also… fiery. Determinate. Intense.

“Never say that again, okay?” she orders. “Never talk about dying! Never _think_ about dying! In your life! Ever again! You heard me? Least of all in front of me! I’ll bend an entire ocean to wash that away from your head. I can do that – I _will _do that! I will do _anything _for keeping you as far away from death as possible! _Any. Thing!_”

I blink.

Completely and utterly shocked.

Awestruck.

I am…

No one had ever cared so much about me. No one had ever gotten angry on my behalf. I never felt like this. I never felt so...

“I…”

“I _will_ do anything,” Katara reaffirms firmly, her eyes blazing like the sea under the sun, “It doesn’t even matters what you do or what happens from now on, I _will_ do anything to keep you away from death. And that’s a _promise_.”

I just stare at her.

She stares back at me, still with that fierce, intense look on her eyes. (I never knew blue eyes could blaze so much like flames.) _You’re beautiful_, I want to say.

It feels like we spend a lifetime in silence. Looking at each other straight in the eye; even the sound of waves comes from too far away.

“Okay,” I whisper weakly.

She nods strongly, agreeing, and lets go of my face. My skin feels warmer where her hands held it.

“We should… We should probably go back to sleep,” I say, desperately avoiding eye contact, desperately wanting to run away from here, desperately wanting not to do so and never leave this moment. “It’s getting late and tomorrow’s a busy day.”

“You’re right, let’s go.”

We stand up together and walk to the entrance of the house’s main road.

“Oh, wait. Look at how that pretty seashell is!”

Katara runs excitedly to one spot on the sand, picking up a glowing, rose quartz-colored seashell and admiring it in her hands under the moonlight.

“You like it?,” I ask, more than a bit puzzled. (_Someone_ told me only stupid girls liked that sort of things.)

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I?”

Clearly I need to reevaluate my sources on girl knowledge. “Nothing, I just… Never mind. Let’s get going.”

Apparently deciding to keep the seashell, Katara comes to walk with me up to the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking. Katara fully encouraged Aang to promise Zuko that he would perform some pretty disturbing euthanasia on him if he became like his father. But the fact that she agreed so quickly to let one of her allies die was simply out of character. What happened to the too-hopeful-for-her-own-good girl Bryke said could never match with a boy like Zuko? The one that thought even her enemies' lives were precious and their death was not the solution to the problems at hand, the one that was crying tears of joy after seeing Zuko open his eyes. So I thouhgt, what if she knew more than what it was apparent?... 
> 
> And then, the scene were she was talking Aang out of the Avatar State before he could indeed slay Zuko. 
> 
> I don't know you guys, but I think that whole monologue was pretty weak, and she didn't make the most of it about Aang, but about HERSELF. She told Aang to spare Zuko "for HER". (I mean, I KNOW this wasn't the writers intention, but if they don't want people to make their own conclusions, they have to stop making things so ambiguous.) 
> 
> And then in the Legend of Korra, Sokka and Zuko are the same age all through the series, yet Sokka dies first while Zuko is elderly yet in perfect health and still has enough strenght to fight. And KATARA is also still alive during this time period... You see where I'm going with this?


	12. Tsk! Teenagers

**Zuko**

I wake up early in the morning. Perhaps even too early, but I _have_ to wake up.

Yes, I _have_ to. I need to come up with a more effective teaching method for Aang, I need to instruct him on the most advanced firebending techniques. We _all_ need him to be ready for when the Sozin’s Comet arrives in mere days.

If last night’s play served for something, it was to remember me how close the comet is, and how _unprepared_ we are for when it comes. How unprepared _Aang_ is.

I can’t help but feel like that is all my fault – What am I even saying?! It _is_ my fault!

First, for trying to put him in a cage since the first time we met, then for siding with the bad guys when I had the chance to side with the good guys, then for not saying anything when those bad guys came up with even _worse_ ideas. (After all of this ends, I’ll dedicate myself to charity and live a life of decency and principles.)

_Back to work! This is not the time to be distracted by panic and guilt!_

I walk through the house’s halls. I would wake up Aang right now to start the training, but it definitely is way too early, and I also need him rested and ready to learn.

I go to the beach to get some clarity, I need to think strategies and fighting tactics. I get that Sokka is the strategist in the group but _I_ am the one that knows the Firelord the best, _my_ ideas are the closest thing to reality that we have.

First, there are the guards. If I know my father the way I know him, he’ll have a whole assembly of guards as his escorts protecting him from all sides. We need to take _them_ down first. Then, my father would most certainly go for a direct attack. Possibly a too direct attack, making it more about power and performance rather than any real tactic. If we have quiet strategy on our side… I think we actually stand more of chance.

But what’s the best strategy? Having Aang for a surprise assault? Possibly. But how do we really make my father too distracted for him not to notice the Avatar coming from him? Maybe we… _I_ could make a distraction for him…

The sound of splashing water calls out my attention. (The beach is very beautiful this morning, the sky is clearer than most days and the faint sunshine is making the waters gleam.) I see Katara emerging from the water not too far away from the coast. In her underwear.

And my train of thought comes to a halt so abruptly that all the wagons crash.

Katara does not see me from her place in the water, and if I had some decency – or brain function – left, I would turn around to give her privacy. But apparently I’m not as decent as I thought I was.

I gape as she pulls her wet hair off of her face and shoulders – her bare, shapely shoulders shining from the water and the light. My eyes glide from them to the curves of her perfectly round, perky breasts covered only by a wet strapless white bra; and my eyes then slide down her exposed back to her _extremely_ curvy waist showing above the water.

She looks like a real water goddess moving through her own element. Infinite power, infinite beauty; too hypnotizing, too unreachable for unworthy hands like mine.

What the hell is _wrong_ with her?! Swimming in her underwear?! Out in the open?! Where _anyone_ can see her?! Is this something she does often? Oh, Spirits! With _whom_ have I been living these past weeks?!

_And why haven’t I seen her do this sooner?_

I slap myself. _Pervert_.

“Good morning, Zuko!” Katara finally gets out of the water, smiling, and comes close to me. Still wet and still undressed.

I silently pray for self-control.

“Good morning,” I say. (It’s _deplorable_ the way that I can’t unglue my eyes from her chest.)

(And the thin fabric of her bra is a see-through.)

_Kill. Me. Now_.

“What are you doing up so early?” I ask, trying to act natural.

“I wanted to come look for more seashells like that one I found last night. I couldn’t find any so I decided to take swim instead.” She combs her hair with her fingers as she speaks, styling it over one of her shoulders. “What about you?”

Yeah, what was _I_ doing up so early?

It was something important. I’m sure of _that_ much! I just can’t seem to remember what it was.

But I _would_ remember if my concentration wasn’t so invested on Katara’s wet (_so_ wet) underwear, and wet hair, and the salty water droplets circling her boobs and sliding through her cleavage – Heavens, she has a nice cleavage! – and how much I…

“Zuko?” Katara arches an eyebrow at me. “Are you okay?”

“Yep. Totally.” _No, I’m not okay. Can’t you see that, woman?!_

“You look a little flushed,” she says studying my face.

(Flushed? Oh great. Now I look like a pervert _and _a virgin.) “It’s nothing.”

“Do you have fever or something?”

Before I can answer, Katara steps closer to me. So close our bodies are nearly touching. She softly places a hand on my forehead under the bangs of my hair; her skin feels smooth against my own.

“You do are a bit warm,” she mutters contemplatively.

_Keep this up and you’ll see how warm I can be_.

Seriously, can’t she see what this – what _she_ is doing to me?

Probably not, considering the boys she hangs out the most are her brother and the one that’s way too young to have the kind of thoughts I’m having right now.

“You’re shaking,” she observes.

“Not for what you’re thinking,” I say, with a small ironic smirk.

Am I… _flirting_? A little?

No, of course not! I’m just clearly not getting enough blood to my brain!

_C’mon, Zuko! Think with your head! _

_The _upstairs_ one!_

“You sure you’re okay?” Katara looks at me like I’m suddenly growing a third eye. She slowly removes her hand.

“Never been better.”

Somehow, I don’t think she believes me.

“Okay…,” she drags the word out for fair 3 seconds, looking at me up and down, “I think I’m gonna go start breakfast. Get back inside soon so Sokka won’t eat yours.”

“Sure.” I watch her get inside the house, picking up her discarded clothes from a stone on the main entrance.

I’ll most probably get back inside the house soon.

I just… you know… have to wait until I can walk again…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cultural update: Katara's underwear in the series is a piece of clothing named Sarashi, which is used as underwear but also as a swimwear. That's why she's so comfortable just walking around undressed several times in the series. But clothing styles and traditions vary widely in the Avatar World among the different nations, they are all inspired in different cultures and even historical times, one example of this is when Aang refers to his underwear while swimming as merely "trunks", so we don't know if the Fire Nation clothing includes the Sarashi as well... but my personal guess is that they don't, and they would be surprised by the use of this piece of attire.


	13. Climax

**Katara**

I decided to watch Aang and Zuko’s firebending practice this afternoon, for moral support, and out of concern for the upcoming battle. (I’m so worried about Aang, it seems unreal that his final battle is in just a few days.)

Momo decided to accompany me as part of the crowd.

“There’s one technique you need to know before facing my father,” Zuko announces to Aang in the center of the courtyard. “How to redirect lightning.”

Oh, great! Aang has been dying to learn this!

Continuing his demonstration in his bending stance, tracing the veins in his arms with his fingers, Zuko explains: “If you let the energy in your own body flow, the lightning will follow it. You turn your opponent’s energy against them.”

“That’s like waterbending!” Aang observes excitedly before proceeding to carefully imitate Zuko’s stance and movements.

“Exactly,” Zuko agrees, “My uncle invented this technique himself by studying waterbenders.”

He did that? Whoa. I don’t know if to feel flattered or creeped out.

“So… have you ever redirected lightning before?” Aang asks.

“Once,” Zuko answers, a little tersely. “Against my father.”

A shiver runs down my spine. (He must mean the day of the eclipse like he told me.)

“How did it feel like?” Aang inquires, apparently oblivious to Zuko’s subtle tension.

Dropping his bending stance with a deep breath, Zuko answers: “Exhilarating.”

Aang almost squeals at this.

“But terrifying.”

Aang’s face falls.

“You feel so powerful holding that much energy in your body,” Zuko describes, “But you know that if you make the wrong move… it’s over.”

Aang chuckles. In a way that I feel a bit nervous. “Well, it’s not ‘over’ over,” he says, “I mean, there’s always Katara and her little Spirit Water action, am I right?” He turns to me.

“Actually,” _I hate having to tell this to him, _“I used it all up after Azula shot you.”

“Oh…” _Yep, I hate having to tell this to him._

“You’ll have to take the Firelord’s life,” Zuko states crossly. Darkly. Not leaving space for questions or denials. “Before he takes yours.”

And as soon as the words leave his mouth, he exits.

He doesn’t even wait to hear Aang’s answer. “Yeah… I’ll just do that…”

I follow Zuko with my eyes, I watch his clenched fists at his sides.

“Aang, are you okay?” I ask, turning to him.

“Yeah,” he mutters, “I’m fine.”

It doesn’t sounds very convincing, but I nod anyways, even though he isn’t looking at me; and then I stand up hurriedly to go look for Zuko.

***

“Zuko! Zuko, wait!”

I catch up with him in one of the hallways inside the house.

He stops at my callings and lets me come close, but his gaze is fixed on the floor and he doesn’t raise it to meet my eyes. Not even when I’m already in front of him.

“What’s up?,” he asks blankly.

“Hey, are you…” I study him up and down, all of his seemingly relaxed posture. “Are you okay?”

He shrugs. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

I gulp. “You just… well… you just told Aang he has to slay your _father_.”

He shrugs again. “He has to.”

I back off a little at such indifference. “And you are just okay with that?”

“I just told him he had to do it, didn’t I?” _Now_ he’s meeting my gaze. Still blankly, but at the same time almost challengingly. _Awaiting_ for me to make it a challenge. “That means I _know_ he has to do it.”

“That’s not the same thing as being okay with it,” I say.

“It doesn’t matters with _what_ we are okay with. It’s a battle, it’s a war, we have to do what has to be done.”

“But you don’t have to act like it means nothing.”

“It’s a means to an end, _of course_ it means nothing.”

“Zuko…”

“What do you want, Katara?” He demands, but rhetorically. “For me to feel _sad_ because we are going to battle an _enemy_? The most _powerful_ of the _enemies_? For me to feel a sudden rush of familial love for someone that never even _wanted_ me? For someone that mocked me when I…”

“I just want you not to act like everything is fine,” I say.

“It won’t be _fine_ if Aang doesn’t ends Ozai.”

_Ozai_. How far away someone can be from his own father to call him by his first name?

“Zuko…”

“I gotta go.” He attempts to leave again.

I don’t let him.

I grab his arm and use all the physical strength that I have to make him turn to me, stilling him in place with my hands on his shoulders.

“Zuko, it’s _me_.” I put all the _emotional_ strength that I have in that word, trying for him to _get_ it, trying for him to remember who I – who _we_ are. “Talk to me.”

He stares at me unblinking; if I was crazy, I would say his eyes have lost a little color, now they look like an opaque copper instead of shining gold. His skin also looks different, it’s grayish. It’s like he was ill, like the light and the colors were sucked out of him by force. He looks, and feels… _cold_.

But his shoulders are squared up, his posture is firm. Straightened with unbreakable – mechanical – resolution.

His hands fly up and grab my wrists.

He takes my hands off his shoulders. Not unkindly, just... impersonally. “Later.”

I stare at his back when he walks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, nobody thought about how a whole episode discussing KILLING HIS FATHER would affect Zuko?! We didn't deserve a scene with that approach?! Zuko as a character didn't deserve a scene with that approach?! I mean, the poor kid had to act like he was simply okay with it, using sarcasm as a defense mechanism, and no one from the rest of the Gaang didn't even bother to ask him how he felt about all of that?! 
> 
> Everybody always says that scene is messed up because he was mocking 12-yo monk Aang and his hesitation to kill a person. Well, I think it is messed up because Zuko himself is a 16-yo who's talking about KILLING HIS ABUSIVE FATHER WHO'S LOVE HE ALWAYS BATTLED TO ACHIEVE or else said father will kill one of Zuko's new friends and newfound family along with the rest of the world, and Zuko is supposed to keep his cool in ALL of this situation! 
> 
> And then, you see how Katara reacted to Zuko's sarcasm? Everybody laughed, but Katara looked hurt and as if she was going to intervene but backed off. If she was only relating to Aang at the moment, she would have defended him with claws and teeth, but you can see that as the scene changes she swaps glances between Aang and Zuko, most probably because she can relate to both, and knows this is difficult to both of them in their own, different ways. 
> 
> And now that we are talking about it, denying his feelings in a matter like this is a very 'Zuko' move, and encouraging to feel those feelings in order to heal is a very 'Katara' move...


	14. Unloved, unworthy

**Katara**

Where on Earth did Aang go?! I haven’t seen him since he stormed off after our discussion on the courtyard! I understand that maybe he doesn’t wants to talk about his battle with Ozai right now, but he doesn’t has to make me go worried sick looking for him! (I swear I’ve looked through all of the house, and I haven’t found him yet!)

Did I look in the main hall already? It’s not so much of a hidey-hole but possibly it is for thinking that way that I haven’t looked while Aang is hiding there. It’s like Bumi always says: “Instead of seeing what they want you to see, you gotta open your brain to the possibilities.”

(After defeating Ozai, our first task will be freeing Bumi from Omashu.)

I step into the main hall; even though it is the entrance and one of the principal rooms in the house, this hall has always looked a little bit more somber than the rest. Which is odd since it is the only one that actually has portraits, pictures and memories of the Fire Nation Royal Family; they should make it livelier. But instead they give him sort of a melancholic aura.

If it wasn’t because the doors are wide open, I wouldn’t be able to see a thing in the room, but giving that they _are_ opened, the clear moonlight serves as a giant lamp. I don’t see a trace of Aang but…

“Hey,” I say to Zuko when he turns and notices me standing in the darkness.

“Hey.” He doesn’t sounds surprised to see me.

“What are you doing here with the doors opened?” I walk over to him and the picture wall he’s facing.

“They were already opened when I got here. The lock is broken, they sometimes open themselves with the wind.”

“Oh, I see.”

So the lock is broken. Somehow, I doubt that’s just a coincidence that has _nothing_ to do with Zuko. There’s something about this house, it feels like it was haunted by his own ghost.

“What are you doing? Wandering around the house?,” he asks me.

“I have been looking for Aang since dinner!,” I say, not hiding my anxiety, “Have you seen him? I’m getting worried!”

“I checked on him after he stormed off,” he explains, “Relax, he’s fine. He’s just meditating.”

“Where?” I demand. “Shouldn’t we at least talk with him about all of this?! I get that he doesn’t wants to kill Ozai, I get that he wants to look for another solution, but we can try to find another solution together and he’s not giving us that chance!”

“Maybe he just likes to do things on his own.”

“I _know_ that,” I remark. “I know that, okay? I know Aang better than anyone. We _all_ know him better than anyone; we are his _family_! We should solve things _together_!” I cry out.

Zuko backs off a little at the words “family” and “together”. Like they were electric shocks shoot at him.

“Well…,” he gulps, “I… I don’t really know much about families…,” he sounds embarrassed, “but I think the important thing is for them to always be there for each other, that they come whenever they are needed, even when someone in the family acts like he doesn’t wants or needs help.”

I stare at him for a moment. His sheepish look makes him seem defenseless, more than at any other time I’ve seen him.

“That really sounds like what a good family would do,” I mutter.

Zuko smiles. Sadly. “I know, I learnt it from my uncle.”

He turns towards the wall again, I follow his gaze to one of the pictures hanging on it – and become a little shaken at finding such a domestic image at the Firelord’s house.

It’s a painting of a man that I recognize as General Iroh (a younger, more muscly and slender version of him, but General Iroh nevertheless), and two little kids: a tiny baby Iroh’s holding in the air, and an older – probably 11-year-old – boy building a sand castle on the beach.

“Is this you?” I point to the older boy.

“No,” Zuko says, “That’s my cousin. Lu Ten.”

“_Cousin_?” I cover my mouth when I realize how brusque _that_ came out. Then I add, a bit more politely: “General Iroh has a son?”

“He _had_ one. He passed away.”

_Oh._ (It takes me a second to realize I said _that_ out loud.) “My dearest condolences.”

“It’s okay,” Zuko shrugs, “It happened a long time ago.”

He steps away from the picture and goes to sit on the house’s porch, on the other side of the opened doors. I follow.

“Did you get along with your cousin?” I inquire, sitting next to him.

He shrugs again. “I guess so. He was much older than me, so we didn’t have much in common, but he was always good to me. When I was a kid, I used to imagine he was my big brother.”

“That’s very sweet.”

“Yeah.”

“What happened to him?”

“He died during the Siege of Ba Sing Se five years ago. His death was the reason why my uncle abandoned the siege of the city.”

“_Oh_.” My hand flies to cover my mouth in surprise, but I hold it back.

I never… I never _knew_ someone of the Fire Nation Royal Family had died during the war. _Because_ of the war. It feels surreal. Like a paradox. I always thought they were living a happy, merry life while the rest of the world burned in their flames. Literally.

“I’m so sorry, Zuko,” I say, “And I’m sorry for your uncle, too. I’ll make sure to tell him that when I see him again.”

He smiles looking at the ground. “He’ll like that, he might even invite you to Lu Ten’s birthday next year. Every year my uncle visits his grave and sings a lullaby to him.”

“That’s beautiful!”

“Yeah…”

We remain silent for a few moments, listening to the night around us. Tonight the moonshine colors the darkness in a light platinum shade that provides everything with a ghostly, but sparkling energy. Like the soul a little girl provides to her toys and dolls just by believing they have it on their own.

“You think someone would do that for me if I died?” Zuko’s question abruptly breaks the silence.

“Your uncle would do that for you,” I say, “Aang, Sokka, Toph, Suki and I would do that for you.”

He studies me for a moment, as if searching if I’m telling the truth; he has to fully turn his head to look at me with his healthy eye.

“You shouldn’t.” He turns away again. “I don’t deserve it.”

“_What?_” I almost choke. “Why would you say that?!”

He shrugs. _Again_. “Just a thought. I can’t evoke love for my father. I don’t think that means I deserve plenty of love for myself.”

My eyes widen in horror and disbelief at the same time that my stomach ties itself in a nauseatingly tight knot. “Zuko, that’s not…”

“It’s true,” he stubbornly proceeds, “People worthy of love are able to _feel_ love.”

“Zuko, you _feel _love!,” I nearly _scream_. I _have_ to scream! I need this to get into his thick head!

He shrugs but I don’t even let him do that! His shoulders barely raise midway when I say: “Don’t you even _dare_ to shrug that off! You love your uncle!”

“Yes, but I…”

“And you love us!” Now I _do_ yell. “Don’t you?”

He shudders like I indeed electrocuted him, and freezes like I caged him in one of my ice blocks. “I… I…”

“We are a _family_, Zuko! Once I told Aang that Sokka and I were his family after he lost the Air Nomads. Then we met Toph and she became part of our family, too. And now you are with us. You are our family, and we are yours!”

I think his hands are shaking but I don’t look at them to confirm it, I keep my eyes straight on his face. His shocked, pale face.

“Families _love_ each other!”

Zuko looks at me like he just saw a ghost.

And then turns away, avoiding my eyes at all costs. I want to turn his head forcefully and _oblige_ him look at me.

“I don’t know how to be part of a family, Katara…” he whispers. “Maybe it’s because I’m not meant to be part of one.”

“Zuko, you are – ”

“I’m _not_,” he says. “All of the people that I know – all the people that comes close to me – they hate me. And if they are foolish enough to care for me, they get hurt. _I_ hurt them. Maybe I didn’t deserve my father’s love in the first place and that’s why he hates me so much.” His hand reaches to touch his scar. “Maybe it was for loving me that my mother had such a bad destiny. There’s a pattern in there, don’t you think? Either way, I’m not worthy of that kind of love. You shouldn’t waste it in someone like me.”

There’s a shiny spot sliding through his scarred cheek; I didn’t know he could cry through his burned eye.

I reach out and softly wipe the tear away with my fingers. But for the rest, I don’t say anything. I’m not sure what to say. Not even the slightest bit.

I slide my hand, distractedly and pensively, through the wooden stairs… until I hear a dry thud that makes me turn to the side. Apparently I found some kind of clay mold. Though it’s mostly just a round piece of solid clay with a child’s handprint deeply marked on it.

I pick it up. “What’s this?”

“Oh, I forgot I left that there. It’s a mold of my hand I made once with my mother.”

“This is your hand?,” I ask, a little surprised, and swapping looks between Zuko and the “oh-so-tiny” handprint.

“Yes,” Zuko smirks, a little embarrassedly.

“It’s so small!,” I observe, stating the obvious, “You must have been such a small baby!”

He blushes a bit. “I guess so.”

I put my hand over the print on the mold. It really _is_ very tiny.

“Your mom must have loved to make this kind of things with you,” I say.

He doesn’t answers.

“Everything is always better when we do it with the people that we love,” I explain. “You know, this year I’ve learned that there are plenty kinds of love, and plenty ways to love and be loved. Not all of them are pretty like love is supposed to be; I have seen a lot of people make sacrifices for their beloved ones, and I have seen those beloved ones resent those sacrifices. We don’t always understand why the ones around us do the things that they do, but we have to decide if they are worthy of our trust or not, we have to believe that they had reasons to do the things they did and believe they were for our own well-being.”

Zuko remains uncannily silent as I speak.

“I have also learned that not everybody is worthy of your trust,” I continue, “but that’s not your fault. It’s not because you have done anything or because there’s something wrong with you, some people are just too different from us to be part of our lives, and the best thing you can about it is keep moving forward. Let it go, and keep living.”

I stare at my hand on top of Zuko’s mold.

I keep staring at it when I feel someone close behind my back, and then when Zuko places his hand over mine on the frame. He _does_ have nice hands.

“Those are really great lessons to learn,” he says over my shoulder. He has a nice voice, too. I wonder why I never noticed before.

“I know.”

“Thank you, Katara,” he whispers.

“You’re welcome,” I whisper back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not crying, YOU are!


	15. War

**Zuko**

“We’re going to Ba Sing Se?” I ask, kind of baffled, landing Appa on June and Nyla’s tails when they stop at the destroyed city walls.

“Your uncle’s somewhere behind the walls,” June says, restraining Nyla for her not to dig past the rocks and rubbish. “Nyla’s getting twitchy so he can’t be far,” she directs Nyla to turn in the direction we all came from. Preparing herself for leaving, I know. Points for her for becoming decent enough of a person to say good-bye. “Good luck.”

And then she exits.

_So helpful! So June!_

“It’s been a long day,” I tell the others, “Let’s camp and start our search again at dawn.”

“As you order, valiant leader!” Toph does not put much of a fight against taking a rest. She climbs off of Appa and raises a three-wall earth-tent on the ground.

“Hey!,” Sokka cries out after her, “I thought _I _was the team’s leader!”

“What kind of idiot would name _you_ the leader?”

“_He_ named himself the leader,” Katara explains sarcastically, climbing off of Appa as well.

“That explains it.”

Sokka pouts.

If I was further interested in watching Suki console him, I would keep witnessing this exchange. But I’m not. So I jump off of Appa, landing perfectly on my feet.

When I turn to him, Appa makes a soft half-roaring, half-crying sound and approaches me, a bit unnerved. As if he knows there’s something wrong going on and is looking for me to console him.

I just place a hand on his head. (I _wish_ I could console him, but I’m not the type to say things are okay when they are clearly not.) (And I don’t make promises of fixing them when I’m not sure that I know how.) 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Katara comes close to me, petting Appa, too.

“I think my thoughts are worth more than a penny.”

She smirks. “You know what I mean.”

“It’s just…,” I trail off, “It looks like we are just in the middle of a giant mess. I never thought we would get to this day being so unprepared.”

“Yes, I know,” she agrees thoughtfully. “I always knew this day would come, but now that it is here it feels unreal. It shouldn’t happen like this. Without Aang.”

“I don’t think there’s a way wars should happen,” I say, removing my hand from Appa, “But I know that when they come, they are big and vast. What can the five of us do against something like that?”

“Are you saying you don’t think we stand a chance?” Katara arches an eyebrow at me.

“No! That’s not…” I growl and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Ugh! I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“I think I do,” she says, coming even closer to me. I feel her hand rubbing my shoulder. Comfortingly, as she always does. “Zuko, it’s okay to have doubts sometimes, we don’t always know how things will outcome, but it is on those times that our faith has to be stronger than ever. Sokka told me what you said about failing and keep trying. I believe you were right at that time, and we all need you to keep believing that now.”

I reach and hold her hand, pressing it tighter against my shoulder. “Thank you, Katara.”

“Hey!” Sokka call us out from behind Appa. “Are you two love-birds gonna make out all night or are we gonna sleep?”

“Shut up, Sokka!” Katara and I yell in unison.

He shrugs so obnoxiously nonchalant that makes me want to strangle him right here and now. (This must be how Katara feels most of the time.)

“We do have to go to sleep now, we need plenty of rest,” I say, letting go of Katara’s hand.

“Yes,” she agrees, quietly.

Appa lays right on the spot, more exhausted than any of us. (It’s understandable, _we_ aren’t the ones that flew kilometers carrying five teenagers all over the Earth Kingdom.) We all nestle on his fluffy legs and tail; except for Toph, who apparently prefers the ground of her tent. “Good night, everyone,” I say.

“Good night, Zuko.”

“Good night, Zuko.”

“Good night, Sparky.”

“Good night, Katara,” I say to her once she’s lying with her eyes closed next to me.

“Good night, Zuko.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HATE it when people says Sokka would be completely oblivious to Zuko and Katara's relationship! He would be the first one to make fun of it, for Raava's sake!! 
> 
> Also, imagine how Zuko, Mister "I DESPISE not having a plan", could have felt during this time when the Comet was about to arrive and all his strategy had fallen apart because of the disappearance of the Avatar. Feeling insignificant is not a foreign feeling for Zuko, but he really, truly, deeply HATES it!


	16. Friends, or something more?

**Katara**

I can’t believe I have a new grandfather!

I can’t believe _Pakku_ is my new grandfather!

I have been clung to him since we found out! (Half because I am so very happy that he’s my new grandfather, half because I really need a hug to not think about Zuko and his uncle right now.)

“I wish we had been there with you and Gran-Gran when you two met again,” I tell him while we all gather together after dinner around one of the camp’s bonfires. Even though I’m sad because we weren’t really there, I can’t help but smile as I speak.

_That’s_ how happy I am that Gran-Gran found love again!

“Your grandmother would have wanted to have you there, too,” Pakku says, with his smoothly hoarse voice that is strangely peaceful when he’s not talking about stupid sexist waterbending rules. “But she knows that you two have been busy all of this time,” he glances briefly at Sokka before returning his eyes to me, “even while she is sad that you have been gone, she’s happy and proud.”

“She’s still just as beautiful as you remember her, right?!” I ask, not minding sounding like a naïve hopeless romantic.

“Even more so. Beauty is the eyes of the beloved, and I love her more as each day passes.”

_Awwwwwwwwwwww!! _

I hug him tighter. “I want to fall in love like that.”

“Romance is very inspiring, my young apprentice,” I feel his rough hand caressing my hair, “But you’re still way too young for getting invested in that kind of things.”

I look up at him. Unimpressed. “Oh, c’mon! You remember what happened the last time you told me I couldn’t do something.”

Judging by the look on his face, he remembers vividly. And fondly. “You’re right. Sorry, I’m still too new at this ‘being a grandfather’ thing, I need to establish some rules.”

“It’s okay,” I concede, smiling.

“So… is there someone special with whom you would like to fall in love with?”

I open my mouth to answer –

“Someone like a certain handsome Fire Prince, maybe?!” Bumi cuts me off with his high-pitched voice, appearing next to us out of nowhere.

“What?” I say.

“What?” Pakku parrots.

“At least one of my eyes still works, gorgeous, and it was the one that saw how he was looking at you!” Bumi winks at me. (I think.) (It’s hard to tell for his slightly deviated eye.)

Lately I’ve been getting too accustomed to strong blushing, so I recognize when I’m doing so now.

“He didn’t… He wasn’t…”

_Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no. _ _This isn’t the time for me to blush instead of making full sentences._

“Oh, I see,” Bumi mutters. I wonder what it is that he “_sees_”. “So it _is_ like that, huh, Toph?”

“Totally like that, Bumi.” Even more surprisingly out of nowhere, Toph just magically materializes next to him.

“What are you two even talking about?” Pakku inquires.

His voice is stern, like when he’s imparting classes, but there’s also something else there. Something that sounds just the _slightest _like anger.

Bumi and Toph snicker together. “Oh, you wouldn’t understand, Pakku,” Bumi muses, “It’s a ‘cool kids’ kind of thing.”

And then he commands stone platforms to rise beneath his feet, helping him to exit by merely skating through the rocky ground.

And leaving all of the eyes around the bonfire to settle on me.

Except for Toph’s, who sits in one corner to snicker by herself. I glare at her.

Pakku – my new grandfather, of _all_ the people in front of whom this conversation could have taken place – is the one to ask the question apparently everybody else is wondering: “Is there… _anything_ you would like to tell me, Katara?”

“Nope!” I shake my head for extra credibility.

Pakku arches an eyebrow. Looking at him like this, he does look like a grandfather. A strict one that just caught me making out with a boy. (_What a fitting visual, Katara!_)

We remain around the bonfire but I’m having trouble catching up with the conversation, I’m thinking about Bumi and what he said about me and Zuko. (What in the world does “like _that_” means?)

I’m right, though. There’s nothing to tell. Nothing at all. Zuko wasn’t looking at me in _any _way.

In fact, how do we even know Bumi was talking about Zuko?!

_Oh, sure, Katara. Because there are plenty of Fire princes around this camp, aren’t they?_

He could… He could…

It’s just Bumi being Bumi. _That’s_ it. He is wrong, he’s seeing things that aren’t really there. Yeah, that’s it. It’s nothing, it’s his overactive imagination. Toph spread some rumor to him. Yeah, a rumor. It’s not like something is really happening between me and Zuko. It’s not like Zuko is looking at me in any way. He _isn’t_ looking at me in any way. Bumi saw nothing. Like I said, overactive imagination – And his deviated eye! He’s seeing things wrongly because of his deviated eye.

(Okay, admittedly, _maybe _there’s something wrong if I have to convince myself so hardly that he wasn’t right.)

But how could Bumi _possibly_ be right? Zuko and I are just _friends_.

Just that. _Friends_.

***

I wake up before dawn.

I don’t know why, it may be that I’m just anxious. It _is_ Sozin’s Comet day, after all.

And we _still_ haven’t found Aang…

I won’t let this get to me, though.

I won’t lose my faith. I won’t lose my hope.

I exit my tent and go walk around the camp. (Should I make breakfast by myself?) Last night when I offered to make dinner, the elders said they would take care of it for me. It made me feel off-balance, I think I’ve become too used to be the one that takes care of others.

And all of it ends today. One way or the other.

_I won’t lose my faith. I won’t lose my hope. It – _this_ is who I am._

I guess I zoned out for a while because the sun is now coming up, and I’ve gotten to the center of the camp, where General Iroh’s tent is.

I didn’t see him or Zuko coming out last night… Did Zuko talk to him already?

_Should I…? _Could_ I…?_

Carefully, I walk to the entrance of the tent, and even more carefully I push the fabric out of the way for me to have just a small peephole to see what’s going on inside.

General Iroh is barely waking up, apparently. (I can’t see him properly, Zuko is blocking my view kneeled with his back turned to the entry.) None of them says anything once General Iroh is awake.

“Uncle,” Zuko is the one to break the silence, weakly. “I know you must have mixed feelings about seeing me… But I want you to know…,” his voice quavers, and then it breaks, “I am so, so, sorry, Uncle.” _Zuko... _“I am so sorry and ashamed of what I did.” My fist clenches around the fabric of the tent. _Zuko…_ “I don’t know how I can ever make it up to you. But I’ll – ”

His sentence is cut off when General Iroh yanks him by the shoulder and hugs him, smiling and crying at the same time.

My fist eases.

“How can you forgive me so easily?” Zuko asks, sobbing softly. “I thought you would be furious with me.”

“I was never angry with you,” Iroh explains, his big, rough hand caressing Zuko’s dark hair, “I was sad because I was afraid you lost your way.”

“I did lose my way,” Zuko admits.

“But you found it again,” Iroh pulls back a bit, not letting go of Zuko’s shoulders, “And you did it by yourself,” he speaks proudly, “And I am so happy you found your way here.”

He hugs Zuko again as Zuko himself chuckles quietly, “It wasn’t that hard, Uncle. You have a pretty strong scent.”

I can’t help but shake my head affectionately.

_You have to love those two_, I think as I stand up and walk away from the tent to give them some privacy.


	17. I'll remember you

**Zuko**

_Darkness caging fire. Fire illuminating darkness. _

That’s what I see with my eyes closed while I meditate. Darkness and fire, fire and darkness, both coexisting through battle, one trying to light and the other trying to oppress. I’ve never been good at interpreting visions, but I think that’s pretty accurate to mine and Azula’s upcoming Agni Kai, the energy increasing and reinforcing with each moment that we wait in our respective balconies for the arena to be ready.

I can feel my sister’s strange, messy energy from here. Across the Agni Kai chamber separating both of the rooms designated for each of us to prepare for the challenge. It’s odd, I never thought we were connected enough for it. She’s angry; abnormally more than angry, but also something else. Something that makes her wild, and chaotic, and clumsy. Like a stuck, uncontrolled lightning, one that is inexplicably accumulating power within itself until exploding.

This is more like a guess, but I would bet she’s practicing her aim and her movements. Losing control at even the smallest imperfection not even related to her strength or the effectiveness of her blows. That’s why I choose to meditate instead. For this, I don’t need strength, I need peace of mind.

My eyes open slowly as my mind and soul release the visions and the thoughts about Azula. Setting them free.

The first thing I register is Katara standing at the border of the balcony looking down at the arena, with her long hair blowing pronouncedly with the strong wind. She turns to me the moment I fully regain my consciousness, like she could feel my awakening. A heartbeat passes as we stare at each other in the eye. Me, taking in the sight of her.

“Hey.” I finally stand up.

“Hey, to you,” she follows my movements, “How was your meditating?”

I walk up to the border of the balcony next to her and look down at the arena and the servants cleaning and putting weak protection barriers all around it. “Clarifying,” I say.

“Figures.”

We both stare at the chamber for a few moments in silence. Heavy silence. Even when I always was taught about wars and combat fronts, nobody ever told me about the decisiveness weighting the air as you awaited for a fight to ensure. Especially when you are next to someone else. It feels like there are millions of things to talk about, but all of them pale in comparison to what’s about to happen.

“An Agni Kai chamber in the Palace’s courtyard,” Katara muses, “How… royal?”

“This is just one of them, an antique one,” I explain after a soft chuckle, “All of the others are too much out in the open or too dug inside the towers for us to hold such a big fight in them.”

“Isn’t it a little dangerous to host an event such as an Agni Kai inside a place like the Fire Palace?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

We go back to the silence for a while more.

“How do you tell when someone wins an Agni Kai?” Katara asks finally, looking down intently.

“One opponent _burns_ the other,” I say. Ominous, as it should be.

I feel Katara’s blue stare in me, in my face. I close my eyes when her hand touches my jaw and turns my face to look at her.

“I see…,” she mutters, eyeing me and approaching her fingers to my cheek. The scarred one. Hesitating. And then softly settling over the cold flesh.

I wrap my own fingers around her hand, steadying it there.

“You don’t mind it?” I ask. And upon her slightly confused look, I add: “Touching my scar?... Looking at it?”

“No,” Katara answers calmly, not taking her eyes or fingers away from my fleshy cheekbone. “I didn’t know you before your scar. For me, it is a natural part of you.”

I inhale deeply, like it could make me absorb those words from the air between us. I look at Katara. At her dearly familiar features, long soft hair, and big, innocent, hopeful eyes. _Would they still be just as pretty if they weren’t blue?_ Yes, they would, because they would be Katara’s.

Out of nowhere I start getting flashbacks of her eyes ever since we met. Since she looked at me scared but defiant at the South Pole, all the times she frowned at me, determined to give me a lesson for being so much of a jerk; when she finally looked at me with kindness and then I backstabbed her, the disappointment and anger in her eyes ever since. (I will _never_ not feel guilty about that.) And then when she finally smiled at me again. And hugged me. (Not many people had hugged me in a long time.) Man, it feels like we have lived _centuries_ together. And sometimes I don’t know how to feel about that. Sometimes I… I don’t know! Sometimes I feel like I might…

If there’s a somewhat of a chance that I die today, then…

“Katara...,” I say, “I –”

“Don’t say it,” she cuts me off crossly.

_Oh. _

I see…

I let go of her hand. _I… guess that’s all then._

But she catches my hand before it falls at my side.

“It’s not that I don’t want to hear it, Zuko” she explains, her voice gentle. “It’s just that… when you say things like that at moments like this… it feels like you’re saying good-bye. We can’t let ourselves believe this will be a good-bye. Not today. And I’m not ready… I’m not ready to feel like I’m losing someone else. Not today.”

Her hand squeezes mine tightly, almost painfully, but the pain feels too far away while looking at Katara’s grim face.

“I understand.”

“Thanks.”

The tension does not eases when we turn quiet again. It only morphs. It becomes more magnetic but strangely soft, like bright, colorful fireworks sparkling in the distance. I didn’t notice when we stood so close to each other, but apparently we did, our bodies – our _faces_ are almost touching. I can smell the pleasant salty water that always seems to be a part of Katara’s scent, along with sunshine and grass and… something else. Something uniquely Katara, the smell of her skin, her hair, her clothes, her presence.

Katara’s other hand – the one that’s not holding mine – goes up to cup the other side of my jaw, her eyes are fixated in it. In my chin. In my lips.

I don’t realize who’s the one moving closer to the other, we are just _so_ close that we don’t have to move much. We don’t have to move much for me to breathe her breath. We don’t have to move much for me to feel her lips, _so_ close to mine…

Somebody clears their throat.

Like we are suddenly struck by the explosion that precedes a cannon ball, Katara and I physically yelp and embrace each other. _When did we start to move closer to each other when we were surprised? _

We turn to where we heard the sound and I’m more than just surprised to see – “Lo? Li?”

Both of the _only-Spirits-know-how-old_-genarians smile at me and bow respectfully. In unison. Like_ always_.

“We are happy to see you, Prince Zuko,” they announce. And then, out of nowhere (and a little shockingly that they can move so fast – or at all – given their age), they smirk in Katara’s direction and bow to her, too. “You, too, young and beautiful waterbender.”

Katara and I exchange a baffled look through the corner of our eyes. (Okay… For Lo and Li to be in here, something weird must be going on.)

“Katara,” she says, warily. “My name is Katara.”

Lo and Li bow once more. “Pleased to meet you, master Katara.”

“What are you doing here?” I go straight to the point – and not so willing to trust the old fossils so easily.

To be honest, Lo and Li were always sorta like some crazy grandmothers of mine. They were Azula’s first teachers and had always been a part of both of our lives ever since. But with my sister being my enemy, I can’t trust even our common acquaintances.

“We are here to warn you, Prince Zuko,” Lo explains.

“Princess Azula has lost her balance,” Li continues.

“She lost control over her mind,” they finalize together, “She has become too dangerous, for herself and the Fire Nation. Must be stopped.”

“What do you mean?,” I ask.

“She now believes everyone is after her to take her life. She banished all of her personal servants, her Dai Li agents and Fire Nation’s high functionaries.”

“If she continues like this the nation’s security and political system will be damaged. Maybe for years.”

“Azula wouldn’t do anything to damage the Fire Nation’s politics,” I argue.

“Normally she wouldn’t, but something has happened to her. She’s not the princess –”

“Or the sister –”

“That you know.”

_She stopped being the sister that I knew a long time ago_, I want to remind them. But this isn’t about that.

“What was it that happened to her?”

“We don’t know, it all started after Mai and Ty Lee’s betrayal and after she sent them to prison.”

“She_ what?_” I let go of Katara. “Azula threw Mai and Ty Lee in prison?” I step towards Lo and Li, like they could take me to release Mai and Ty Lee right at the moment.

They both nod. “We heard what happened at The Boiling Rock.”

“After Mai helped _you_ escape, Azula tried to punish her, but Ty Lee blocked her chi and attempted to escape the prison with Mai.”

“They have been imprisoned ever since.”

With all the things that are there to think now, my mind only comes with: _My friends have been imprisoned for weeks now. And I didn’t do anything to help them._

I growl and yank at my own hair with both hands, taking the pain as personal punishment. “This is all my fault!”

“Zuko, this is _not_ your fault.” Katara comes from behind and pulls my hands down, holding my wrists for keeping me from self-harming myself some more.

“You shall defeat Azula,” Lo and Li say at once. “To keep the Fire Nation from falling with her.”

I turn to Katara again, searching for something in her eyes that I’m not even sure she – or anyone – can give me. Support? Approval? I don’t need support for this, I certainly don’t need approval, this is just something that I _have_ to do. It’s an obligation. _My_ obligation.

It’s my burden.

Katara nods.

“Master Katara,” Lo’s voice crosses between us, “we were also here to look for you. You could come witness the Agni Kai in the Great Hall at the ground floor.”

“The Fire Sages and the rest of the witnesses for the coronation have gathered there,” Li explains as they both form twin smiles out of tone for the situation, “As the Prince’s guest, it’s only right for you to have a proper place among them.”

Without turning and without letting go of my hands, Katara glances at me through the corner of her eye. All the distrust that I feel for these two myself comes from her multiplied.

“Besides, the Great Hall is better protected than these training rooms in the higher floors,” Li says. “A duel like today’s could be dangerous, you’ll be safer there,” she concludes along with Lo.

Katara looks to me again, still hesitant, still distrustful. Still almost fearful considering the day that it is. It’s understandable. It wouldn’t be the first time that somebody has captured another person with a bait like this.

I slip my wrists from her loose grip, and hold one of her hands in mine. “I’ll go with her,” I say.

“We would gladly take her…”

“I’ll go with her,” I repeat, hardly. Cuttingly. Threateningly. Not all that long ago, I was a ruthless prince capable of inspiring authority and fear in guards and servants alike. For this and only this, I’m not against recurring to that person.

“As you wish,” Lo and Li concede. “Please, follow us.”

They both walk towards the door, but Katara and I stay fairly behind for a few seconds.

“Who are they?,” Katara mutters.

“Azula’s mentors.”

***

We follow Lo and Li down the stairs of the tower. They look a bit more like the ones of catacombs, with the absorbing darkness and only the torches for illuminating the road.

I continue to hold Katara’s hand as we walk, we haven’t let go of each other since we left the training room. I need to feel Katara with me now, I need something tangible that tells me she’s safe, even now that we are following Azula’s minions to only who knows where. I need to know that she’s not in danger, not yet at least, that I still have time to…

“You’re tense,” her voice breaks through my thoughts.

“I think that’s pretty normal given the circumstances.”

Lo and Li don’t turn at the sound of our voices. Makes me wonder if they aren’t close enough to hear us.

“Zuko,” Katara whispers, “about the Agni Kai… about Azula… you will have to…”

“I always had to,” I admit, to her and to myself. “That was always the plan. And even if I don’t do it, Azula will. It’s the way she works. It’s the way we _both_ have always worked.”

Katara says nothing.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I do care about my sister?”

“Yes.”

We get to the door of the Great Hall and the guards open it. Not without eyeing me and Katara suspiciously, and I sent them a steely glare in response. _I’m still royalty._

“Announcing the arrival of Prince Zuko’s guest,” Lo and Li proclaim stepping into the hall. “Master Katara, from the Southern Water Tribe.”

“How did they know from what Tribe I was from?”

Katara arches an eyebrow at me and I just shrug. I don’t really know how these women know half of the things that they know.

Our grandiose entrance would be more imposing if we had the ceremonial drums accompanying us – and if everybody else in the room wasn’t looking at us like we are some raggedy, malnourished little kids that they wouldn’t think twice before assassinating themselves.

Lo and Li were right about the part of all the high functionaries here to witness the coronation – and now the Agni Kai – gathered here with the Fire Sages, every non-bender of the royal court is here. I assume all of the firebending admirals and troops are assisting my father with his… genocide. (Let’s call it for what it is.) 

I scan the room looking for any immediate dangers, taking note of every move that could become an attack. One of the first people I recognize is Lieutenant Chi, the one that establishes the pattern of smugly disgusted over-the-shoulder stares in the place. Nobody is looking at us like we are potential threats, neither to them or, let alone, their precious Princess. Oddly enough, I remember there was a time in which such a dismissal would have made burn the place in rage. Now I don’t feel anything.

The energy of the people in here can’t touch me. Besides, they are right about something. I am a raggedy, malnourished kid. And I am going to become Fire Lord.

Katara squeezes my hand lightly, and I follow her gaze to all the people looking at her like she was a pond of filthy mud, at me like I was pig wallowing in said mud, and at our entwined hands like they were a personal offense towards them, (if I had to guess I would say they are making an inhuman effort to not make a collective theatrical gasp), and you know what? I’ve had it with all of this! With them! The bigotry! To heck with all of that! If there’s a pretty good chance that I die today, then I’m making the difference _right now_!

“Prince Zuko,” a royal emissary comes through the door, “the Agni Kai chamber has been successfully arranged. Please, accompany me to the arena.”

“Sure,” I say. I turn to Katara, still holding her hand. “I guess I’ll see you later,” I step closer to her, close like we were in the training room earlier. Close enough to kiss her.

And I do.

Gently.

On the forehead.

I don't bother turning to the others in the hall when I back off, (even though can feel their hysteria), I stare at Katara's eyes as she stares at my own.

The emissary clears his throat. “Prince Zuko?”

“Going.”

Katara throws her arms around my neck and embraces me. (I _swear_ I can hear the eye-rolls around us.) I hug her back even tighter, breathing her in, setting this memory of her into me.

“Be careful,” she whispers.

“I will,” I whisper back.

We let go. Together.


	18. I thought I lost you

**Zuko**

The world went mute.

My ears pound with deafening silence as I stare at Azula – at my perfectly composed, confident, calculating sister – lying on the dirty floor muttering disastrous, unintelligible sobs that sound more like cries of agony. Her usually cold eyes – _my_ eyes – blaze with rage and hatred as she returns my gaze, her naturally pretty face is deformed in a disdainful grimace that doesn’t even resembles a human face any longer.

She looks like a rabid dogsnake.

A captured rabid dogsnake.

I feel myself frowning.

Seeing Azula at all had always made resentment settle in the pit of my stomach hard and heavy as any tangible rock. This time is not an exception. Except that now I can feel… some other things. But I’m not sure if to call them emotions. (They feel too blank to be.)

I remember a year ago, when my inner angst was consuming me from the inside out. If somebody had asked me back then what I would feel at a moment like this, I would have said “_triumph_”.

I don’t feel triumph. I don’t want to. Not upon seeing my sister – my own little sister – chained and whimpering, with her face against the ground and her eyes filled with… _pain_. Sharp pain. Azula screams as if she was being _stabbed_ with it.

No, I don’t feel triumph at all. Only hollowness.

And a calm – but cold – relief.

The wind brushes my skin as if it was the only sensation left for me to feel. That and the pulsing aching in the middle of my chest, but even that is a distant perception. It’s like the world suddenly turned black and quiet, leaving only me and Azula, and the palace guards that I don’t hear asking me what to do with my sister as they grab her like a rag doll.

What’s more, I don’t hear myself telling them to keep her in custody until they receive new instructions.

I watch as the guards do as told, my eyes never leave Azula as she’s dragged away. She doesn’t tries to free herself, she looks… tired. _Barely conscious_.

I take a step towards her – and don’t ask me why because not even I can answer that – but the movement awakens the almost electric shock of pain on my core, making me growl and fall down to my knees to the floor.

_Pain!_

_It hurts_.

“Zuko!”

I heard that. I can hear now.

Katara puts her hand on my jaw and turns my face towards her. She’s kneeled beside him, her eyes are still bright and swollen from the tears that she spilled earlier. However, while those were tears of joy, now her eyes are emanating an apprehension that make my throat burn.

“Katara…,” I say, weakly.

“Don’t try to move,” she commands, her expression turning urgent. She lets go of my face and sets both of her hands on my wound, starting to heal it.

“A gurney! Now!”

I know that voice, it’s my family’s physician – the one Azula mentioned before – Dr. Hyo. How in the world did _he_ get here?

He’s kneeling next to us now.

“Hold on, your Highness…”

“I don’t need a gurney,” I cut him off.

I want to punch myself for how hostile that came out. (The aching isn’t helping to control my already hot temper.)

“Katara is healing me.”

“It’s not enough, Zuko,” she says still holding on to my injury, “You still need bandages. And maybe even some meds. A wound like this doesn’t heals just like that, you still need medical attention.”

“Don’t worry, Miss”, Dr. Hyo voice is calming and polite, “We are going to provide it.”

Katara nods without looking at him, her eyes are fixated on the ruby-red piece of flesh dissimilar from the rest of my skin. She starts taking her hands away…

I catch them fast.

_Don’t leave me._

Dr. Hyo’s medical team arrives before either of us can say anything. They grasp me to put me on the gurney and I groan, (out of pain and annoyance at my own helplessness.) 

When I open my eyes to the sky, I take note of the different hues of scarlet and garnet red that color it. They seem bright and dark at the same time. I didn’t know the sky could have such colors. Somehow, everything that happened today starts playing itself on the reddish sky. Everything up to Azula’s howling face and the sudden awareness that Aang probably already defeated my father.

The Fire Nation’s royal family – my family – has fallen.

But that’s not true, is it? I’m still here.

The thought makes my stomach clench.

I don’t notice how we get to the infirmary, (I didn’t even realize we were moving); I only get to notice when the doctor stops Katara from coming in.

“I’m very sorry, Miss, but I have to ask you to await here while Prince Zuko is treated.”

Another almost electric shock, but in the form of panic, vulnerability and neediness strikes through me.

“No! I want her to be with me!” – _Don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me – _“I want her to stay.”

The doctor tries to tell me something over his shoulder – probably to advise against what I’m asking – but Katara’s faster: she surrounds him and runs to me before he can talk.

I hear the doctor sighing behind her back. “All right, but please, Miss, sit over there,” he gestures to a chair away from the hospital bed where they placed me, “while the prince is bandaged. You said it yourself, this kind of wound requires treatment.”

Katara just stares at me.

“Miss?”

“Right,” she breathes out, absently, and proceeds to take her seat.

**Katara**

Zuko’s fast asleep after the doctors give him some painkillers so he will stay calm while they wash and sterilize the wound.

I can’t push away the uneasiness prickling inside my veins as I watch all of these people groping him while unconscious and applying all kinds of only-who-knows-what substances to his scar. Are they trying to get rid of him as some sort of “loyalty” gesture towards Fire Lord Ozai?

I shake my head; I’m being ridiculous.

They are _doctors_. They are giving Zuko the medical attention that _I_ told him he needed. Besides, Zuko’s family physician has been really nice. I’ve nothing to suspect about.

But I’m not letting my guard fall _too_ down. (Granted, I _have_ some trust issues.)

Suddenly the irony of the situation washes over me. Not too long ago, Zuko had been the target of my resentment, distrust and utter rancor; there had been times when the sole sight of him had made me see white with anger. And yet here I am! Looking warily at the medics, willing and ready to make the most ruthless use of my bending if they take any ill actions towards him.

Yeah, the irony is almost laughable.

I observe them moving and raising Zuko’s limp and helpless sleeping body as they bandage him. My fingers twitch at my sides with the urge to grip something.

“All right. Master Katara, is it?,” the main doctor asks my way once they place Zuko again on his back.

I nod. (How rude is it that I don’t even know the man’s name?)

“We must thank you for your previous healing. Prince Zuko’s wound was not nearly as bad as it would be expected if it wasn’t for it. There was almost nothing for us to treat anymore. Now, all that it’s left is for him to get some rest. He’ll stay asleep for a little while longer due to the medicines, but he will wake soon.”

He smiles somewhat comfortingly at me.

I just settle my eyes back on Zuko.

The doctor clears his throat. “Well, our work here is done, and I’m sure you would like to stay with Prince Zuko until he awakens so… I guess that’s our cue to leave.” He smiles at me again, but this time rather sheepishly. “Don’t doubt to ask for me if you need something.”

All of the medics exit with a respectful bow to me. I follow them with my eyes as they walk through the door. When they’re all out, I get to my feet and rush to seat of Zuko’s bed, examining his sleeping face.

His expression is so serene, it seems foreign in him.

_If you frown any harder your brows will grow together in the middle_. I giggle, I should tell him that.

My eyes roam through his features; while asleep, they look even more delicate than usual. I reach out and carefully brush back the messy strands of hair falling on his forehead. (His skin and his hair are soft.)

My fingers twirl the black strand of hair between themselves as I stare at his sleeping face. The memory of him jumping in front of Azula’s lightning flashes through my mind and my eyes sting painfully. If I didn’t know it’s impossible, I would say it feels like my heart could crack itself right here and now.

I push the strands back and feathery caress his forehead, my touch is barely even there, just the tip of my fingers floating above Zuko’s temple. The tears that run down my face feel more present than my tact.

Zuko’s skin is warm but different than usual. Like burning ashes and not a full flame. I let my fingers to slowly trail the road down his face to his scarred eye; the magenta and garnet-colored skin feels fleshy but nice to the touch, and a little bit colder than the rest of Zuko’s skin. I trace the skin folds under his eye with my index finger.

My hand keeps moving, stroking Zuko’s cheek gently. His jawline. His neck. His clavicle. His chest is rising and falling at the steady rhythm of his breathing. There’s a brand new, tight bandage covering his core. I embrace his displayed torso with my eyes, my fingers on his clavicle flutter.

I continue to draw the line of his clavicle bone, curving through his shoulder blade and then his arms. Zuko’s biceps are soft and definite, so are his pecs.

Vivid and flimsy memories start reproducing in front of my eyes, like I was seeing them through a translucent curtain. I can see Zuko awake, fighting, training, talking, even _blinking_, as I stare at his unconscious body. His chest continues to heave, I place my hand over it to follow his breathing. His heart’s beating powerful and raced compared to how relaxed he looks asleep.

The tears don’t stop and they continue spill. _I could have lost him_, I think. _I could have lost another person I cared about._

“I could have lost you, Zuko...”

He doesn’t answers, of course. (_Of course._) He’s still sound asleep. But I wonder if he can hear me, if he can feel me touching him.

I move my hand from his chest to his cheek, cupping his face.

Zuko has perfect features, I should tell him that.

“For a moment I thought I would never see you again.”

He doesn’t answers.

“You scared me, you know?” I smile even as the tears keep falling heavily.

He still doesn’t answers.

Neither does he answers when I brush my lips against his. It’s okay, it wasn’t for him to return it anyways. I just wanted to feel something. Something that would remind me that he’s here now.

_He’s here. I can touch him, I can see him. I can feel him._

_He’s here._


	19. Don't let go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: For whatever it is worth, I DO am sorry!

**Zuko**

Okay, it’s just a matter that I put my arm through the sleeves and…

_Urgh! _

This stupid wound!

“You need some help with that?”

I turn. “Mai! You’re okay!”

(I can’t believe it, she’s here!) (I didn’t think she would come!) Suddenly all of the crazy weeks with my sister trying to kill me shoot themselves in front of my eyes – they have been doing so for the past days few days, but this time they end with Mai’s familiar face, and it’s inexplicably comforting to have someone I’ve known for so long in front of me.

“They let you out of prison?” I ask stupidly as we both approach each other. (_Of course_ they let her out of prison.) (How else would she be here now?)

Mai borders me and takes the loose sleeve of my robe to help me pass my arm through it. _Finally_. “My uncle pulled some strings,” she explains as she ties my robe, “and it doesn’t hurt when the ew Fire Lord is your boyfriend.”

_Boyfriend? But I thought we broke up._

“So does this mean you don’t hate me anymore?” I wonder.

I think she blushes but I can’t see properly, I’m still seeing white for the lightning and blue fire in front of me. The light blinds me. Everything seems too much. I’m weary.

“I think it means,” Mai says, facing me, “I actually kind of like you.”

_She doesn’t hate me. My oldest friend doesn’t hates me._

I follow her movements as those thoughts repeat on my mind, until we kiss but I can’t feel it. I can’t feel anything.

_She doesn’t hate me. My oldest friend doesn’t hates me._

***

**Katara**

_How long have I been staring into thin air? Like an hour?_

“Katara?”

My head darts to Toph – who’s still messing with the outfits we were delivered by the royal servants on the Fire Palace for our meeting with the recently reestablished Earth King Kuei after Zuko’s coronation today.

“Yes?”

“You okay? You were doing it again?”

“Doing what?”

“That thing when your pulse shoots up to the sky but your breathing comes out too slow,” she answers, “it’s hella creepy.”

_Oh._ “Sorry, sorry,” I say, patting my cheeks to wake me up further, “I guess I’ve keeping a lot to myself lately.”

“It’s okay,” Toph concedes, dropping herself to sit on the mattress of Palace room. And on top of the Earth Kingdom formal attires. “We all have a lot on our minds lately, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” I agree, sinking my hands into the soft mattress.

“Things have changed a lot.”

“Yes.”

“You think we will all be the same even after everything that has passed?”

Toph sounds too much like her age for me not to notice, like a full 12-year-old girl that doesn’t know what the future departs.

And, truthfully, I’m no longer sure if I – a simple 14-year-old girl – has all the answers to console her like I used to believe I had.

“I don’t know,” I admit, “but I think we will have each other while we find out,” I offer with a tiny smile. “As always.”

Toph has her own tiny smile, too. “Yeah.”

“At least I hope someone doesn’t change because of his new girlfriend,” she says jokingly, nudging at my side with her elbow.

“What?”

“Zuko and Mai.”

“What?” I think now I get what Toph meant with my heart beating too fast and my breathing coming out too slow.

Or maybe it’s the opposite.

I don’t know; I just feel like something isn’t right.

“They got back together again, didn’t you hear?”

_No._ “How did you find out?”

“A servant told another servant, who told a maid, who told a cook, who told another servant, who told a guard, who told another guard, who told another guard on their way to their shift at the Boiling Rock, who told the Kyoshi Warriors when they were released today, who told Suki, who told me!”

_What? _I want to ask again.

“Katara, are you okay again?”

_No_.

“Wait me here for a sec,” I say – whisper – whatever. I don’t take the time to tell what did I do before I launch myself to the bedroom’s immaculate bathroom. (If I was thinking properly, I would stop myself to admire how beautiful the decorations and details are in all of the Palace.) I’m not thinking properly.

I press my back against the bathroom’s door. It is cold.

My heart is still beating, but slowly and heavily. Too slowly. Much more heavily. Like it's piercing itself with the ends of my ribs.

“Zuko...”

_He's with Mai now. _

I should have known. I should have known by the way he reacted when he found out Mai was in prison. She is the want that he wants. He chose her.

_I don't understand... _

I mean, rationally, I do, but...

All these… the things I felt... I thought… It couldn't all have been in my head. I couldn't have misunderstood so much.

My eyes sting.

_Mai and Zuko. Mai is the one for Zuko._

What did I get wrong? I thought we... I thought _him_...

I’m crying, thick rivers of hot tears descend through my face, and I bite my bottom lip painfully until I taste blood to keep myself from screaming in pain. I feel pain. Inhuman, unbearable pain. It was my own naivety the one that brought all of this pain to me! If I had known better, I could have tell that Zuko was...

I’m an idiot.

And I'm even more idiotic for still questioning what did I get wrong! Everything that I thought we had was in my head all the time! Zuko never did other thing than being a good friend and I exaggerated it, he never… not even once… said he had feelings for me.

Not the way Aang did.

_Aang._

Aang has always been honest about his feelings for me. _Always_. Not even once he didn't let me know how he felt. Is that what true love is like? Telling the person you love them since the very first minute? It makes sense that it is...

So then that means Zuko and I were never truly loved each other. I, too, never told him the way I felt.

I turn around and press my forehead against the door. This newfound epiphany is not exactly comforting but it is clarifying. _Aang is in love with me; Zuko isn't._

And I'm not in love with Zuko – not in the way I thought I was. Maybe if I had loved him more...

No. If what I'm thinking is true, then I just didn't love him enough. And even if he felt something for me, he did not feel enough. Not the way he feels for Mai. Not the way Aang feels about me.

_Zuko is not in love with me..._

***

**Zuko**

I had royally screwed up!

(No pun intended.) (And I'm disobeying Uncle's teachings about proper language so it highlight how serious this matter is!)

Why did I kissed Mai? I don't know, it was an impulse. I was just so relieved to see her, to know that she didn't hate me anymore, and I... It was an impulse!

I have to find Katara. _Now!_

I knock on the door of the bedroom that I offered her to stay on the Fire Palace. I try not to make it sound too anxious but… it _is_ anxious. 

The door opens and Katara appears like she looked at the beginning of the spring. Young, beautiful, cheery, innocent, like light itself. Like time never passed, like nothing ever changed.

“Hey there, your Fireiness!”

She throws her arms around my neck to hug me.

I stumble a little out of shock, and try to put my arms on her back to return the hug, but she lets go of me before I have the chance.

That’s odd. She never used to hug for so little time.

“Ready for your coronation today?” she asks me. Smiling.

I try and fail to get a hold of the thoughts crossing my mind. _Katara?_ “Yeah…”

“I heard you already have a candidate for Fire Lady on your own,” she says in what I assume it’s a joke, poking at my side with her finger.

My blood runs cold. Cold and impossible to course through my body like the glaciers in the South Pole. “I…”

Katara giggles. “I told you she would forgive you!”

“Right… Wait… I… What?... I…”

“You okay, Zuko?” One of her eyebrows arches my way.

_No, I’m not okay! And you’re not okay either! Why are you acting like… like… _

_Why aren’t we talking about _us_? You and me?_

“You can’t be awkward during your coronation, you know,” she jokes, casually enough, “you have to give an inspiring speech and all. It’s in the schedule, I checked.”

“I…”

I let the word trail off, until it turns silence and air. And tension, and feelings that are and aren’t really there.

“I decided to ask Aang out later today,” Katara says, looking at the floor, almost slightly embarrassed.

“You did?” I don’t notice the words leaving my lips. I only see Katara. I only feel Katara.

“Yeah, I think… I think I haven’t been fair with him,” she says, guiltily. A strand of her hair falls over her ear, I take in every single detail as though I’m drinking from her sight. “I tried to avoid his feelings for me for a long time, and that’s what made our relationship messy, but now that things have calmed down… I think I’m ready to accept them.”

“You want to date Aang?”

My words weigh in the air around us, sinking it for it to not get to my lungs.

“I want to recognize that he loves me.”

The air hardly keeps on floating around. But it’s still there. It’s probably only still there for Katara, because she’s the one that deserves it. She’s the one that deserves to be happy.

I open my mouth, then close it. _Katara’s the one that deserves to be happy_, I repeat myself. I continue to chant it inside my head. I’ll continue to repeat it till the day I die, if necessary.

I close my fists – my blazing fists – at my sides. “I am… I hope things turn out well for you,” I say calmly. “For both of you.”

“Thanks.”

More silence. (I feel that… silence is the only thing we are going to get for a long time.)

Katara steps closer for a moment, and she hugs me. She hugs me tighter than what she has ever had, it’s crushing my core and my wound, but I don’t care. Katara’s hugging me with all of her might, as though… she doesn’t wants to let go. That’s the only thing that I care about.

She doesn’t have to let go if she doesn’t want to.

I hug her just as tightly, breathing her in. (Now I feel… now I _know_ that I’ll remember this moment forever…)

“I love you, Zuko.”

I tense.

And then I whisper: “I… I love you, too.”

_I love you so much, Katara. I want you to be happy, for the rest of your life. Mine is already yours. As long as you're happy, I'll live._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't shed a tear for them, guys! If there's something that I love about Zuko and Katara's relationship, is that it doesn't even matters if it is romantic or platonic! They will always be top priority for one another, the most important person in the world for each other. 
> 
> Once I heard this girl that didn't even ship Zutara saying that what she loved about them in the finale of the series was that everything came to a second place for both below helping the other. Like, Katara was helping Zuko to face his demons instead of helping Aang. She could have gone crazy looking for Aang, she could have denied to go anywhere without Aang, they didn't even know where Aang was or if he was coming back in time, that should have put Katara over the edge. But no, all of that came to a fair second place below Zuko. Katara CHOSE her FRIEND Zuko above the boy she was supposedly already in love with by this point. And Zuko CHOSE his FRIEND Katara above his birthright to the throne, his place in the royal family, the new era of love and kindness he was fighting for and that he's uncle (his REAL FATHER FIGURE) believed in, and his LIFE itself. 
> 
> Besides, I had too much respect for the characters to push them into a relationship after suffering such traumatic experiences like the ones they lived and ignore the frail state of mind they both must've been in. (What kind of heartless lunatic would do that?!)
> 
> It's makes you feel any better, I firmly, undoubtedly, unbreakably believe they continued their close relationship for the rest of their lives. Actually, I believe that Zuko was divorced or at least separated from his wife in The Legend of Korra. I mean, I KNOW Mai and Zuko supposedly resumed their relationship in their early twenties, so it's fair to assume that Mai is Izumi's mother and Zuko's wife, but they wouldn't be Mai and Zuko without their toxic line of breakups and getting back together, and I think this time it would have been because Mai noticed how close Zuko and Katara were and had always been, and she just couldn't handle or wouldn't settle to be the SECOND most important girl for Zuko. Aang would have understand their relationship, as he shared his own intense bond with both of them, but I don't think Mai would understand or (and this is gonna sound SO mean) care about their reasons.


End file.
